“What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her. . It seemed to emanate from the back of the house. Taking this for encouragement, her suitor proceeded still more extravagantly. CHAPTER XXVIII. ‘You don’t know him. ’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. Obey my orders, and you've nothing to fear. F. Fortescue, with a bow. " "Your secret?" demanded Trenchard, impatiently.
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