“It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. ” “Do you think he’ll come after you?” “Why would he do that? It has been three hundred 239 years. It isn't as if he were stricken with typhoid or pneumonia or something like that. You know nothing of life, nothing of its dangers, nothing of its possibilities. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. " "What's the meaning of all this?" demanded Sir Cecil. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. His eyes were fixed upon her face, but he opened his lips twice before he spoke.
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