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"Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. "And the rings?" "Ja. I don’t quite know why. And―and he wanted to help you. But oh, how weary I am! I know. It was his turn to express astonishment. "My old coco is disintegrating. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. The Oriental accepts my medicines kowtowing, and when my back is turned, chucks the stuff out of the window and burns joss-sticks. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. The Return 231 II. I miss them so.

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