"You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. Part 4 After a day or so she thought more steadily. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. White assured her. It hardly served his interests. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops.
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