In a moment they were in the street outside. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. For the first time he seemed to wonder what it might be that she had to confess. ’ ‘Who were they?’ she asked abruptly. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. How came you by the hurt, eh?" "How did I come by it?—that's a nate question. “I see the pointer,” she said. Only your pa knew as how I were the one as saw to you at the wet-nurse’s cottage, and he got a-hold of me and made me bring him to you. He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them. Under the circumstances you must permit me to be the best judge of the identity of the young lady who did me the honour, as an old family friend, of dining with me. 5. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque.
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