Your servant, Mr. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. She could not help herself. “I knew Mr. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. He began to talk again in quick undertones that she could not clearly hear. Courtlaw, Mr. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect.
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