‘Quick, Gérard. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. Not for me. She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. " "You may go, and welcome, Madam!" rejoined Kneebone, spitefully. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping.
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