Not MY affair. "Of yourself," he replied, in a mournful tone. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar. "You are free," said he, "that grating forms a ladder, by which you may descend in safety. " "It's no use going to bed," answered Rachel. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames.
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