You saw him? You have been to Remenham House?’ ‘Remenham House? I wish I’d been only to Remenham House. He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. After all, that was life. Nigel Ennison was my very good friend, but there is not the slightest reason for your not marrying him, if you wish to do so. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey.
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