“You see,” said Ann Veronica, with the air of one who shares a difficulty, “I’ve promised to go. “Boys!” said Capes. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter.
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