Entranced, he stared at the name. " "Decidedly so," replied Edgeworth Bess; "and I'll take this opportunity, while Jack's back is turned,—for he's grown so strangely particular,—of easing him of his snuff-box. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. I will dedicate my books to you. In Old Palace Yard everybody ran. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. "Let me see," replied Wood; "exactly twelve years ago last November. ’ Upon which, she darted through the library door, galvanising both the sergeant and his two militiamen into action. I often wonder why the young always take us ancients for nambypamby creatures. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. But his own situation was too perilous to admit of his rendering any assistance to the ill-fated waterman.
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