"Trenchard," he muttered; "Aliva Trenchard—they were right, then, as to the name. As the body was borne to the house in the arms of the farming-men, Mr. T’weren’t fitting, we knew that. She remained on guard. Her shoulders were gripped hard and a familiar voice spoke. “It jars. It is we who have become the parasites and toys. She had been forced to buy herself that pair of boots and a walking-skirt, and the pearl necklace at the pawnbrokers’ had yielded very disappointingly. ” She pointed with shaking fingers to a great bunch of dark red carnations, thrust carelessly into a deep china bowl, to which the card was still attached.
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