|On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedabmeow
 

to the
window. 'Are you tired, Margery?' he asked kindly.
'No, sir.'
'Are you afraid?'
'N--no, sir. But it is a long way.'
'We are almost there,' he answered. 'And now, Margery,' he said in a
lower tone, 'I must tell you a secret. I have obtained this
invitation in a peculiar way. I thought it best for your sake not to
come in my own name, and this is how I have managed. A man in this
county, for whom I have lately done a service, one whom I can trust,
and who is personally as unknown here as you and I, has (privately)
transferred his card of invitation to me. So that we go under his
name. I explain this that you may not say anything imprudent by
accident. Keep your ears open and be cautious.' Having said this
the Baron retreated again to his place.
'Then he is a wicked man after all!' she said to herself; 'for he is
going under a false name.' But she soon had the temerity not to mind
it: wickedness of that sort was the one ingredient required just now
to finish him off as a hero in her eyes.
They descended a hill, passed a lodge, then up an avenue; and
presently there beamed upon them the light from other carriages,
drawn up in a file, which moved on by degrees; and at last they
halted before a large arched doorway, round whyilai：
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On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedabmctl