Her head dipped deeply into the current, and she narrowly escaped being swamped. “I think,” he said, “that I would fetch any one whom he has asked to see. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. I don’t think for a moment that he would recognize you. Both of them would be committing novel and unforgettable acts. “Not too bad.
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