“Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. The Supper at Mr. Turning now, and running down the terrace. Accepting his glass from the butler, Gerald glanced at Mrs Sindlesham and saw a dimple peep out. Almost simultaneously they burst out laughing.
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