Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. My will never faltered. “You see,” he said, “it is doubtful if we can ever marry. On one side of the handbill a print of the reigning sovereign, Anne, had been pinned over the portrait of William the Third, whose aquiline nose, keen eyes, and luxuriant wig, were just visible above the diadem of the queen. He, however, made no remark at the time, but instantly prepared to set out. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. There was nothing to be got out of the man.
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