He stood transfixed. "What did you ring for, Sir?" she asked, eyeing the group with astonishment. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. I can't spare you at present. Light flooded the uncarpeted chamber, revealing the decayed state of the place. She despises me, I suppose. He had assumed that her leaving home was the point at issue, that everything turned on that, and that the sole alternative was obedience, and she had fallen in with that assumption until rebellion seemed a sacred principle. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans. But she was not there. An inarticulate instinct which now found expression. I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought. Sure, I lose one occasionally—if he stays in New York. " CHAPTER XV.
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