‘No, let me guess,’ he interrupted. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. ” “Don’t say that,” Sydney begged. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. ” “Your husband,” he answered bluntly. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. If Martha knew all, she would certainly die of shock. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light.
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