" He shifted the pages together, rolled and thrust them under her arm. He jumped out of the car. “You promised faithfully to be there,” he said slowly. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. She wanted to take him in her arms and hush him, but she sat perfectly still. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. “You pushed the wheel from my hand. ” “Come on! Why not?” “So I can spend more time with you, of course. “I hope you’re satisfied.
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