One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. ’ ‘A convent?’ echoed Gerald with interest. "It is", seplied Winifred; "have you brought any tidings of Thames Darrell!" "Troth have I!" replied Terence: "but, bless your angilic face, how did you contrive to guess that?" "Is he well?—is he safe?—is he coming back," cried the little girl, disregarding the question. Without her, it was lonely. The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river. And then she fell into a musing about Capes.
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