“Well, my girl, I wish you had thought about all these things before these bothers began. —Sorry to quit your lord—worships, I mean,—I don't know what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least,—"but I've a few necessary orders to give below. “You!” said Ann Veronica. It isn’t such fun as it seems. He was a little impressed by Ann Veronica’s metaphor of the string, which, indeed, she owed to Hetty Widgett. Something in his tone pinched her heart. ‘Major Gerald Alderley, mademoiselle, quite at your service.
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