Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. Capes?” she heard her aunt saying. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged. He ventured to the great gates, and by inserting his gimblets into the wood at intervals, so as to form points upon which he could rest his foot, he contrived, to ascend them; and when at the top, having fastened a portion of his dress to the spikes, he managed, not without considerable risk, to draw up his female companion. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. “I don’t think our engagement can go on,” she plunged, and felt exactly that loss of breath that comes with a dive into icy water.
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