At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. Wood went on fuming, and the trio went on laughing for some minutes, nobody knew why or wherefore, until the party was increased by Mr. 1. “I don’t see why not,” he answered. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. He kissed her at the door. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. " "What is this to me, Sir?" said Trenchard, cutting him short. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. Part 3 At last the evening was over, and Capes and his wife had gone down to see Mr. ‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. .
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