"What has caused this quarrel, Thames?" asked the little girl, anxiously. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. Her situation was perplexing her very much, and the Widgett atmosphere was lax and sympathetic, and provocative of discussion. ’ ‘That old fool? Why my brother kept him on I shall never know. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. “You!” she exclaimed. ’ Melusine stared. Look in the small hide-bound book that he keeps in his boot. I’m going up to London with the Widgetts to that ball. He singled out my poor husband from a crowd of other felons; and you know how right he was in that case, Sir.
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