Each morning his inquiry was properly answered: the patient was steadily improving, but none could say when he would be strong enough to proceed upon his journey. Her recent attitude towards him was undoubtedly a pose. A few short, dark locks, escaping from beneath her head-dress, showed that her hair had been removed, and had only been recently allowed to grow again. "Bravo, Poll!" cried Jack, who having again pinioned Shotbolt, was now tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. ” “What!” he asked; “not a kiss?” She affected not to hear. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces.
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