"A hundred pounds!" exclaimed Shotbolt. The slight smile that played upon Winifred's lips seemed to say that she was not quite so sure. While this was passing, Jonathan had ridden back to Marvel to tell him that all was ready, and to give him his last instructions. "Is she returned!" "Y—e—s, Sir Rowland," stammered Charcam. "He said, by way of comfort, I suppose, after the fright he gave me at first, that the child would find a friend within twenty-four hours, who would stand by him through life. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. She laughed altogether in her old manner. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames.
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