"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. ” Lucy appeared and appraised him briefly, nonchalantly. " "I'll bet she still smells to heaven with sour coconut. He'll be able to help us a little now. Where can I have heard it!" "Devil knows," rejoined Blueskin. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them. . ’ ‘Was it?’ Her lips twitched. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. "Souls," she answered, drily.
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