As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. " "Go, Sir," rejoined the knight, haughtily. She wondered why he was so distinctive, so unlike other men, and it never occurred to her for some time that this might be because she was falling in love with him. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. He stood up and she ushered him out of the small room. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. "I can do without it," muttered Jack. ’ ‘Exactly so. “Not much,” he answered, “and yet about all there is to be known, I fancy.
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