She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially. "No, lad," said McClintock, his tone becoming kindly. " "Humph!" ejaculated the carpenter. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth. Beauty has bloomed and faded. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room. It would not burden him with any obligation. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. She heard him crash against it, and turned the key in the lock.
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