It’s got to be at last like tobacco-ash over all my sayings and doings. She could not judge its direction, and began to move swiftly along the bookshelves, her hand running behind her across the spines of the calfbound volumes. Thank goodness there’s plenty of opportunity! And we two can talk. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. CHAPTER XXVI.
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