Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite. " "Come, lad; let's have it," said McClintock. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. Let us be gone. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. Madame Valade was looking heartily bored, he noted, as his searching eyes found out the couple. Here's a nosegay for you, my love," she continued, opening her basket, and presenting a fragrant bunch of flowers to Winifred, "if your mother will allow me to give it you. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work.
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