‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. But it was only when that damned scoundrel nearly spitted you in the chapel—’ He broke off and, to her intense satisfaction she saw he was not as much in command of himself as he would have her believe. If ever he requires my services, he shall find I'm not ungrateful. Darrell attempted to reply. Observe it—a blue-serge coat. “Don’t!” she begged. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps.
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