Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. He could hardly open the envelope, he trembled so. " "Readily. But you’ve got to lend me forty pounds. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. She felt flattered. Saviour's Church.
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