But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. Couldn’t fit it inside, but the horse’s blanket lay over it, and, like I said, as long as no one rides him and don’t remove the blanket, I think it’ll stay hid. To-day he selected the girl, and gave her the lead-chair. I want my freedom. She reads novels—and history—and all sorts of things. How much Mary knew is a mystery. He had been formally adopted by the Becks at the age of twelve. You have somewhere to go to in London, I hope.
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