It is better to face the truth. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp. Spurling was standing near the fire superintending some culinary preparation; but she no sooner perceived him, than hastily quitting her occupation, she elbowed a way for him and the knight through the crowd, and ushered them, with much ceremony, into an inner room, where they found the objects of their search, Quilt Arnold and Rykhart Van Galgebrok, seated at a small table, quietly smoking. “Let me get you some water, Annabel. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. She drew a long breath. “That’s HIM,” said Ann Veronica, in sound, idiomatic English. . “He can’t be more than thirty.
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