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"Lots of time for it," said Patricia, yawning and flinging herself down on the wide couch. "The men aren't through in there for more than an hour yet." "Well, have it your own way," said Etwald, carelessly. "I am a scoundrel in your eyes, I dare say; but if you will permit me to see you to-morrow at eleven o'clock I shall be able to prove that this particular devil--meaning myself, major--is not quite so black as you have painted him." "A proof of his innocence," cried Jen, promptly..
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"True," said Jen; "and why should these wretches have murdered that man?" "Dead!" shrieked Mrs. Dallas, all her superstition roused by the word. "Come away from that man, Isabella." And having made this explanation, Dido folded her arms, and waited in scornful silence to hear what her accuser had to say. He considered the absolute absurdity of her story, which, on the face of it, was a manifest invention, and one which, it would seem, was supported by the testimony of Isabella. "Lost! Stolen, you mean," growled Jen, tartly. "That negress--".
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