White and Miss Ellicot laid each a hand upon his arm, one on either side. “Go it, miss!” cried one. It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. She responded at once, rapping him on the knuckles with her fan. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00. ‘Who is that man? What has he to do with you? No, don’t tell me.
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