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It was a long walk she had to undertake, even if she had endured no previous fatigue, but feeble as she was, it was almost more than she could accomplish. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. The one fault, indeed, of this school of fiction for him was that it had rather a light way with parental rights. She had tasted freedom now, and so far she had not felt the need of protection. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue.
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