‘That will be a matter for her future husband to decide. So I fear there's little chance of any one getting it. I'll put them in your room; then we'll have a look-see. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. ” Lady Ferringhall was conscious of some relief. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. She realized that no man had ever placed a mantle of respect upon her as Sebastian did; respect for more than just her pretty face and her now lost ability to bear children. He took about five minutes. She ought to have leapt back on guard. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry.
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