The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. It was Jack's intention to have knocked him down with the iron bar; but he was so struck with the janizary's looks, that he determined to spare him till he had ascertained his purpose. Sepulchre's church was covered—so was the tower. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health.
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