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"You must be mistaken, Lady Meg," he said in a quiet voice. "Whosoever may be guilty, Battersea, for physical and mental reasons, must be innocent." But Patricia shrank from appearing too magnanimous. "I thought as much," said Jen, in an excited tone. Then after a pause, he added: "Battersea, would you like free quarters and plenty of food and drink for a week?".

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"My word!" cried Patricia indignantly. "You don't mean I'm not to look at anyone! I can't even express a little tame approval without your accusing me of grabbing a new soul mate. You can't say she isn't simply ravishing, and just because she's alive instead of being a picture or statue or some such made-up thing, you want me to turn up my nose at her. I must say you are getting to be awfully extreme, Elinor Kendall. You'll want me to wear a muzzle next." "No, I didn't really mean that," cried Elinor, repentantly. "It wasn't a bit like her teasing. Her's always has a good flavor." "No doubt. But in the meantime they would make themselves scarce. Jaggard has been insensible or raving for over a week, major. The scoundrels counted on that!" He bent down to replace the bedclothes which the sick man had thrown off, and as he did so, a faint perfume, sickly and rich, struck his nostrils. It seemed to come from the bandages at the back of the head, and on bending down for a closer inspection, Jen saw that one of these--it was the merest corner which peeped out--was of finer linen than the rest. The fabric was cambric, and with a start which made the blood turn to ice in his veins, Jen realized that it was a woman's handkerchief--its delicacy and border-embroideries assured him of this..