He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear. Katy’s face was vapid and undistinguishable from a crowd, but pretty in an abstract sense, like the face of a baby doll. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. Corbet Kynaston, then? Sir John Packington's courier was here yesterday. “If I was the world I think I should have put down a crimson carpet, and asked you to say what you wanted, and generally walk over me. He motioned the young man to the rear chair, because at that hour the youth appeared to be a quantity close to zero. This light did not remain stationary, but could be seen at one moment glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement. " "Nay, if you're bent upon this folly," observed Wild, who appeared to have his own reasons for humouring the lad, "I shan't hinder you. ‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. CHAPTER XV.
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