The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. But through the fault of that pig, who dared to call himself Valade and masquerade in society under her birthright. " "And you must have risked much to obtain it, my love. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. Wood, sharply. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in.
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