Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. She felt like Snow White in a secret forest house populated by dwarves. He'd have enough to do to protect himself, without attending to you. I was once a disciple of Saint Peter myself, and speak from experience. There were all varieties of bird-life known in these latitudes, from the bird of paradise down to the tiny scarlet-beaked love-birds. “You are a miracle! God spares few from the Pestilence. Poor young lady! She trembled too, and was unable to give her evidence. She moved a little nearer to him. “My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please.
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