"What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. " "I fancied I heard voices," rejoined Sir Rowland. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. So I've grown hard—outside. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. It 163 invariably leads to trouble. ” She laughed gaily—and she had a way when she laughed of throwing back her head and showing her beautiful white teeth, so that mirth from her was a thing very much to be desired. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. Mrs.
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