The militia offered little in the way of relief. Amongst other things, he had just brought down an old laced bavaroy, a species of surtout much worn at the period. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. Like a petulant child he snapped. " "This is folly," cried Jack, controlling himself by a powerful effort. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. Gerald’s breath caught. He grasped Lucilla’s elbow. She stabbed him with her canines. Why? What is she to you?” “I was there by accident,” Ennison answered.
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