“I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. The Jacobite. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. " Spurlock's glance shot up, flaming again. ’ ‘I do. Still, my tutor was a highly educated scholar—my father. You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. Your son was seen by the carpenter's wife in company with the robbers. ‘Eh bien.
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