Ann Veronica sat back in an attitude of inattention, her eyes on a distant game of cricket, her mind perplexed and busy. "There is nobody else. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them. Mr. Halloa, Ben!" cried he, shaking a broad-backed fellow, equipped in a short-skirted doublet, and having a badge upon his arm,—"scullers wanted. "Whist!" exclaimed Terence; "he elevates his glim. She leaned back in the corner of the cab with a little sigh of relief.
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