Have you done the trick at Dollis Hill?—brought off the swag—eh?" "No," answered Jack, flinging himself sullenly into a chair, "I've not. She leaned back as he climbed on top of her and kissed her mouth again. Then making a pretence of stooping to rearrange her flowing train, she glanced at Anna, and half stopped in her progress down the room. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. We are expecting a visit from Sir John Ferringhall at any moment. He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots, and a laced hat; and, though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of distinction.
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