’ A burning at his chest, the general ground his teeth. A row of magnificent, and even then venerable, elms threw their broad arms over this pleasant spot. "What's that you're taking to Sir Rowland Trenchard's?" "Only a box, Sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. “But I am your husband,” he said.
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