—Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. If I’m late again I’ll have to serve another detention!” She excused herself, hoping it was not too obvious she was running away. These things did not harmonize with his conception of the forthcoming (if unavoidable) interview. Her heart full of dread, she dragged on it. "If I spoke to him, my interest might be misinterpreted. S. On searching the coat, he found, amongst other matters, a mask, a key, and a pocket-book. ” She lifted her eyebrows. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain.
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