It was now a quarter past twelve. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. She was quite unconcerned. I'll speak to McClintock to-night and see if he won't take us for a junket on The Tigress. What the devil is the matter, Dunster?” “I beg your pardon, sir,” the man answered, “there is a lady here to see you.
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