“All’s well that ends well,” he said; “and the less one says about things the better. The lad looked alarmed. On the other a wretched engraving of the Chevalier de Saint George, or, as he was styled in the label attached to the portrait, James the Third, raised a suspicion that the inmate of the house was not altogether free from some tincture of Jacobitism. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. You know the danger of this breakneck road as well as I do. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. "You're only twenty—not legally of age. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. The world is known to you.
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