So I hurried and stuffed the grey-blue darling in the top tray, lapped the old black silk around my waist and belted it in with a black belt off a new green linen I had bought for morning walks—down to the butcher's in the High Street, I suppose. That is about the only morning dissipation in Hillsboro that I can think of, and it all depends on whom you meet, how much of a dissipation it is.,
In the meantime, while Sarby was indulging in this enigmatical soliloquy. Major Jen was pursuing his way toward the room of Jaggard. Despairing of obtaining information from David he thought it possible to learn the truth--at all events of that fatal night--from Jaggard. Honestly speaking the major was puzzled by the conduct of his ward. Hitherto, he had always considered David to be an honest man, but at the present time his conduct savored of duplicity. Did he know of anything relative to the triple crime which had been committed? If so, why did he not speak? Finally, was David also under the fatal influence of Dr. Etwald--the man who, Jen verily believed, was the source of all these woes?,
"Yes, it's going some," returned Griffin nonchalantly, as she started up the stair again, dragging the board after her. "The March Hare originated it back in the dark ages, and we've been doing it off and on—when the authorities don't get on to us.".
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