Outside the door stood one of the soldiers. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. ” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries.
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