” “Well?” Anna remarked calmly. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. “Mary! What’s going on! Why are you crying?!” He commanded an answer in a worried and slightly irritated tone. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. They cleaned up the mess as best they could and she went home with him docilely. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew. “Yes, I see that.
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