She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one. Epithalamy might do. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. . “It’s a matter of feeling with me. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. On seeing it, he'll deliver you a box, which it will unlock, and in which you'll find a matter of fifty guineas and a few trinkets. ” “You came to tell me this?” “I came for you,” he declared fiercely. "You are complimentary, Sir Rowland," returned the other, with a grim smile. ” Brendon leaned over confidentially. When the carpenter a moment afterwards stretched out his hand, scarcely knowing whether he was alive or dead, he found himself alone. .
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