“You’ll get me to allude to it, but you’d have to torture me to admit it. Captain Hilary Roding and his inamorata, Miss Lucilla Froxfield. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance. I believe that her ladyship is going to Carey House, and on to the Marquis of Waterford’s ball,” he added, hastily consulting a diary on the hall table. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. His heart hammered in his chest. I went to the theatre that night. Earles threw down his pen with a little exclamation. “Thank you. Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her.
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