s here.

    S fifty, e cap  quite looking in your eye as so you. S  . Plain, old-fashem.

    I made sey. I did not say—urned back at Paddington;

    t I  for anyone to ime t I rying to get forty miles from London, per to prove t London  meant to be left—I did not say t.  I said was:

    Im sure, Im very grateful t trap  at all. t table tittered to   turned out—got up and set about making me a supper-tray. illiam Inker said,

    Miss Smitty fine place in London, Mrs Stiles. And simes in France. iles.

    Only one or times, I said. Now everyone would suppose I ing.

    S in tiles gave a nod. t table tittered again, and one of t made t tray iles said,

    Margaret, you can carry to my pantry. Miss Smitake you to w splash your hands and face.

    I took to mean t so took me do passage, to anot  in it h paper on a spike.

    took me to tle room. It e , and a picture of a sailor in a frame, t I supposed er Stiles, gone off to Sea; and anoture, of an angel, done entirely in black  I presumed iles, gone off to Glory. S and cake my supper. It ton, minced, and bread-and-butter; and you may imagine t, being so  . As I ate, t I  nine. I said, Does t?

    Mrs Stiles nodded. All nig t out.

    And Miss Lilly? I said, picking crumbs from t does she like?

    S her uncle likes, she answered.

    then she rearranged her lips. She said,

    Youll kno Miss Maud is quite a young girl, for all t sress of t s dont trouble s anso me. I so knoress—but t d