Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. His face was white. ’ ‘Miss?’ gaped the soldier. You must—you shall be mine. Men of action by the scarlet coats with their grey facings—insignia of the county militia. ” Anna was thoughtful. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff. I watched you wait at the farmhouse! But I couldn’t compromise your safety! You must have realized that!” She lowered her voice to a loud whisper. “I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers.
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