She had imagined she had drowned them altogether. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. " "Bring your story to an end, Sir," said Trenchard who had listened to the recital with mingled emotions of rage and fear. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. This astute personage was somewhat under the middle size, but fairly proportioned, inclining rather to strength than symmetry, and abounding more in muscle than in flesh. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled.
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