“These are the playgrounds of life. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. You will be my witness, Madame Joan. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. Seconds went by, and the cannon fired just as Rhea descended upon Lucy. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. But you belong to me—and I want you. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. Brendon,” he said, “may I rob you of your guest just for the drive home? I have only a few hours in England, and Miss Pellissier is an old friend.
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