The person caught hold of his arm, and, in spite of his efforts to disengage himself, detained him. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. "My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. Jack was so harrassed that he felt half inclined to stand at bay. He had made himself master of the layout of the house, that was plain. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends.
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