. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. He got off at Canal, and she exited behind the crowd. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. Come and help me pack. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers.
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