The ball passed over his head, and lodged in the ceiling. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m not at all sympathique. . She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. She lay and nibbled at a sprig of dwarf rhododendron. “No lecturing, Anna!” she exclaimed. "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance. . “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me.
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