“Why?” he asked, suavely. Gerald studied the darkness beyond the aperture. One she entered and met with a sharp rebuff, which she appeared to receive unmoved. At last she was roused. It was just as easy to pretend she was watching one when she was actually watching the other. Stanley lost patience. And do you, Jack, attend to your work, and mind you don't get into further mischief. In the pause a door could be heard opening and closing on the landing up-stairs. Show him no quarter, Poll. The less said, therefore, on this point the better; because, as nothing is to be gained by it, it would only be trouble thrown away. A native of Manchester, he was the son of Kenelm Kneebone, a staunch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart.
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