"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. ” She whispered to him. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. I won't dig their graves with my nails. She could not analyse what was stirring in her: the thought of losing the doll, the dog, and the cat. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. Did you warn Frith?’ ‘Yes.
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