I stole away and walked to the railway station. But those days are over—quite over. A maidservant held the front door open. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. ’ Lucilla let out a peal of laughter. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. But the five per cent. I've an excellent memory, thank God! And I perfectly remember that everybody was drowned upon that occasion—except yourself and the child!" "My love you're beside yourself—" "I was beside myself to take charge of your—" "Mother?" interposed Winifred. .
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