"So you're writing under a nom de plume, eh?" said McClintock, holding out the letter. McClintock would bang his fist upon the table. and Mrs. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. “It was a phase,” she said. ’ ‘Not if you want one of good family, no,’ he agreed mildly. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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