"I say," retorted Edgeworth Bess, with a very unfeminine imprecation, "I shan't stand any more of that nonsense. "At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. " "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. Anna, who had thrown aside her sealskin coat, wore a tight-fitting walking dress of some dark shade. "At all events, I've not done with you. ’ ‘Just what I thought, miss. ” “You won’t!” said Ann Veronica; with the clearest note of determination.
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