"Your business, Sir?" returned the other, stiffly. She drew her naked arms around herself. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. He had only to recall this fact (which he did in each crisis) to erect a barrier she could not go around or over. As the lapse of time and change of circumstances have wrought a remarkable alteration in the appearance of the poor widow, it may not be improper to notice it here. But days had now passed. This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia. Living, he knew that he would never send that letter.
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