Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. "Stow it, Nab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. It was a fetching gown that stretched tightly in a cream colored swath over her breasts and expanded to a full skirt with a petticoat. Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. And I’m afraid.
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