By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. Marry, come up! I've been a great deal too charitable. "No; it's only a fresh gale," Ben returned: "hark! now it comes. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. ‘My name’s NOT More, Mr.
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