"Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. He is a knight. “Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. "I was," answered Sheppard. ” She pointed to the envelope still resting upon the mantelpiece. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask.
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