I proceeded to Manchester, to investigate the matter further, and when there ascertained, beyond a doubt, that you were the eldest daughter of Sir Montacute Trenchard. "He just asked for his coat, which he wanted under his pillow. Then she saw him. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. "Well?" he whispered. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. For it was not a good thing to like one man too much when one was going to marry another. Overcome by his affliction, Mr. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view.
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