“How did you find me?” He asked. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. . "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. But she certainly remembered that when she was a little girl he sometimes wore tennis flannels, and also rode a bicycle very dexterously in through the gates to the front door. Adieu! my charmer. This is altogether insupportable. Perhaps marriage hurt. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. I like such interviews. The boy had all kinds of opportunity; but it's the old story of father making it too easy.
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