When he beheld Jack he uttered a deep groan. IX. She glanced into his face. I would not have him know—now—for the world. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. It wasn’t so much women as Woman that engaged his mind. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions. She’ll have to wait for dinner,” he said, uncomfortably. “Dinner is served, m’m,” said the efficient parlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. She forgot her vital hatred of the South Seas; she forgot that McClintock's would not differ a jot from the old island she had for ever left behind her; she forgot all the doctor's lessons and warnings. “Let us walk round to Covent Garden,” he suggested.
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