“Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. “You poor little girl!” he cried. “But, dear, think! He is your father. These particulars are familiar to all, who have any title to the knowledge. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. CHAPTER II. " "Sir Rowland Trenchard!" echoed Jack, in amazement. “I think—we all think that she is wonderful. " "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady Trafford, fervently.
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