" "Your hesitation is not in your favour," observed Trenchard, sternly. “Nigel is like all men,” Lady Lescelles continued. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off. . CHAPTER XXIII. At this juncture, a cry was raised by a servant from below, that the robbers were flying through the garden. “Where are they?” She looked around. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. But, whether she likes it or not, I aim to be on hand to get her out of it. Yield up the babe, and I pledge my word you shall remain unmolested. Even were she to get an opportunity to scream, it would be some time before such a call, unprecedented though it might be, brought the nuns so much out of their absorption that they interrupted their prayer to investigate. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire.
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