" "Thames Ditton—is that your name?" "No," replied the boy, impatiently; "Darrell—Thames Darrell. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. "Hear me," he cried, restraining himself with difficulty. "I give you one minute for reflection. ” She cried once they were in the great room. He accepted this confession conditionally: that no young man had kissed her. He was therefore obliged to use the iron bar, which he did with as much caution as circumstances would permit. Got detained in the City, and——” Then he met the fixed, breathless gaze of those wonderful eyes from the other side of the table, and he, too, broke off in the middle of his sentence. Tell him the truth, Annabel.
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