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"So much the better," rejoined Sir Rowland. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. What had she so nearly said? She had almost spoken a name—and quickly withdrawn it. Hobson was not 147 amused by the situation, which handled wrongly, could lose him his job. At this juncture, a cry burst from the child, who, nearly smothered by the weight imposed upon him, only recovered the use of his lungs as Wood altered the position of the bundle. “This is all rot!” he declared angrily. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. Come back with me to-night. She’s hated me for no apparent reason ever since Fourth Grade. Here I am as an alternative either to nasty work—or going home.
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