’ ‘He let them go?’ asked Miss Froxfield incredulously. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation. ‘And I do not know why you are so polite, when you have been bad to me last night, and have taken my dagger. I found it on the beach, just sitting there nestled inside a piece of driftwood. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. Well, I was all for dragging in Bow Street there and then, and getting the pair of those fraudsters thrown in gaol. They'll be back soon enough—or not at all. Spare him!—pity me!" With this she arose, and, taking up the infant, was about to proceed down stairs, when she was alarmed by hearing the street-door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house. “Go to London,” said Ann Veronica.
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