" "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. ‘That is the man who tries to kill me, but he wounded instead my servant. "Suppose we go and have tea? I'd like to take you to a teahouse I know, but we'll go to the Victoria instead. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. ‘A devil is just what you are. She did most urgently desire to save her face in Morningside Park, and for long hours she could think of no way of putting it that would not be in the nature of unconditional admission of defeat. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time.
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