He knocked his pipe on the teak rail. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. “If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true,” he answered, “I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life. “I am going to ask for your forgiveness. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. " In spite of her displeasure, Winifred could not help smiling at the absurdity of this address. "You mustn't talk any more; the excitement isn't good for you.
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