CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. " "Follow me, then," cried Thames, drawing his sword, and springing through the window. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. Wood, furiously. It is abominable—” “What is the use of keeping up this note of indignation, Ann Veronica? Here I am! I am your lover, burning for you. ‘Don’t fob me off, boy. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park.
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