On that night, I surrendered myself to Jonathan Wild, and became— what I am. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. " "If I thought so—" cried the knight fiercely; "but this is idle," he added, suddenly checking himself. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. He was struck disagreeably by Ramage’s air of gallant consideration and Ann Veronica’s self-possessed answers.
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