Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. "I can," replied Trenchard. ‘That rascally knave sent you to become a French nun?’ Looking positively terrified, the girl nodded dumbly. His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules. In the chapel she sang with an open-lunged gusto that silenced Ann Veronica altogether, and in the exercising-yard slouched round with carelessly dispersed feet. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. certainly did seem to improve the aspect of Ramage’s suggestion. CHAPTER IX. "You mistake,—you are mine.
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