Be this as it may, Jonathan remained the victor; and shortly afterwards,—at the price of a third of his estate, it was whispered,—he procured Trenchard's liberation from confinement. If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. She stole a few glances at John as she stood and played the pieces. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully.
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