" "You'd better," replied Quilt. " "Sir Rowland Trenchard!" echoed Jack, in amazement. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. ‘What now?’ ‘Now,’ she answered flatly, ‘you will please to tell me at once why you have come here. Lucy’s bright tones pursued her. “I think,” began Ann Veronica, “that you don’t realize—” He disregarded her entirely.
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