“I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. So the world is choked with waste and waiting daughters. As they're so fond of each other's society they shan't part company even on that occasion, but shall swing from the same tree. . She leaves town to-morrow. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. Modern, indeed! She was going to be as primordial as chipped flint. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father.
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