"You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. " "Bah!" ejaculated Marvel, gruffly. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. Couldn’t fit it inside, but the horse’s blanket lay over it, and, like I said, as long as no one rides him and don’t remove the blanket, I think it’ll stay hid.
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