“Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. ‘I must see the lady who is my great-aunt. But it’s only now I’m able to do it. One night she apparently fell asleep. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. The fact that it was her trusted friend making illicit love to her remained, in spite of all her effort, an insignificant thing in her mind. "What! you still hesitate! Will that rouse you, coward?" And she gave him a smart rap on the head. He seemed to be about to move toward her. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. “It’s about forty pounds. ‘It is seldom enough I am visited by anyone at all, let alone a personable young redcoat.
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