Nigel, you have not forgotten!” “No,” he said, with a little bitter smile. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. Her hair was gathered up behind, in a sort of pad, according to the then prevailing mode; and she wore a muslin cap, and pinners with crow-foot edging. A cool gray light illuminated small portions of the stone floor. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. All three, then, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter. Was the young lady impatient for experience? Was she adventurous? As a man of the world he did not think it becoming to accept maidenly calm as anything more than a mask.
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