‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. ” She took his hand, interrupting him. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. “In five minutes I shall be ready. ‘Soldier of fortune. Ennison,” she said. ” “You cannot play at hide-and-seek with this creature all your life,” he answered. Wood glanced at the hardy offender, and not liking the expression of his countenance, thought it advisable to postpone the execution of his threats to a more favourable opportunity. That bruise will answer the same purpose. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. “Go it, miss!” cried one. ” She took a step.
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