" The stranger said nothing, but hastily brushed away a tear. If you were ten years younger, you'd have me wondering. "Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. "He left an envelope with some money in it. ‘Would that your mistress were as trusting. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. ” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river. They were Jonathan Wild and Quilt Arnold. I have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a sense of humour.
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