‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. "So I think," replied Kneebone, again applying to the snuff-box, and by that means escaping the angry glance levelled at him by his companion. For a long time he remained standing before the fire, staring at the situation. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. . She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil.
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