She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. ” “Well, you can’t say you’re a failure there,” Lady Lescelles remarked, smiling. She came very near that night to resolving that she would return to her home next morning. "Old Morgan the trader," she explained, "used to save me Tit-Bits. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. Somehow I haven’t connected the idea with you.
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