"If I were so, I should not be here," returned Trenchard. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. Think—think of that engagement!” Their talk had come to eloquent silences that contradicted all he had to say. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. He brightened as she took off her hood. He squatted and threw his arm around the backs of her knees. Still he had a decent look, and decidedly the air of one well-to-do in the world. "I am innocent, f have stolen nothing. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed.
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