but she showed no annoyance at my news. I formed the impression that it was no news to her. And next minute I heard a whispering below; it was unmistakable in that silent cottage, where not a word had reached me yet, save in conversation to which I was myself a party.
I looked out of window. Rattray I could no longer see. And I confess that I felt both puzzied and annoyed until we walked away together, when it was his arm which was immediately thrust through mine.
“A good soul, Jane,” said he;
preservation of my stale spoilt life, and invited right and left to spin my yarn over a quiet pipe! Well, perhaps such invitations were not so common as they have grown in my memory; nor must you confuse my then feelings on all these matters with those which I entertain as I write. I have grown older,