Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. Besides—there is Sir John. After a while one began to talk. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. Courtlaw sat with folded arms. “We are Mr. " "I've been wondering, too. . " "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. “What’s going on with you?” John asked inquisitively, looking down at her abdomen. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. Later, when they returned home, she would serve as the topic of many conversations. She had viewed them askance, and without exchanging ideas with any one else in the world about them. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was.
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