" "Dear mother, don't say so," returned Winifred. ’ ‘The what, miss?’ asked Kimble, frowning. ” He sighed. “I am going to break a covenant,” he cried. ‘Thought you were going to break in here,’ he said, in an impatient whisper. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. Mistresses neither deserve consideration nor commiseration. But Blueskin was not to be silenced. ’ Melusine’s eyes misted. “Quite an unimportant one,” he assured her. Playing became a way of escape. " "In whose favour is it made?" he inquired, sternly. It is a plain case of alcoholic stupor.
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