Chapter XVI THE DISCOMFITURE OF SIR JOHN Sir John looked from one to the other of the two sisters. ‘But this is not to my blame, grandpére. . ‘I can take care of myself, bête. The door leaned inward. All my personal effects to be left in charge of the nearest American Consulate. This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek. Her hair and voice and figure are as yours used to be. You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. The couple reappeared from behind the curtains, both visibly shaken. "How, Sir?" "Except by adoption. To her chagrin, he ignored her, and turned a venomous eye on his betrothed.
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