Page:Once a Week Dec 1860 to June 61.pdf/12

 THE SILVER CORD.

“,” said Ernest Adair, as Mrs. Urquhart’s servant entered a little room on the ground-floor of one of the little inns at Versailles, “you are punctual, but you don’t look pleased.”

“I shouldn’t say I was,” replied the domestic.

She was rather a pretty girl, in spite of a flattish face, a large mouth, with plenty of white strong teeth in it, a couple of hard black eyes, and a habit of erecting her head in a slanting and defiant manner.

“I am so sorry,” said Ernest Adair, whose regret was certainly not expressed in the tone in which the careless words were said, nor was it more palpably demonstrated by the way in which he threw himself upon a straw-bottomed chair,