One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. “I shall probably want you to come down to the ‘Unusual’ to-morrow morning,” he said. “It is very, very difficult,” she continued, looking steadfastly at the ground. It could not be a legal marriage. But his words were borne away by the driving wind. To these she added the wine and spirits directed, and when all was arranged looked inquisitively at her master. "I'm a peace-officer," he added, "about to arrest a notorious criminal. “What’s the objection?” “I suppose she ought to know?” said Gwen to her mother, trying to alter the key of the conversation. " "Ship her back to her father"—sagely.
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