Then the foremost bowed and passed on. Wood in the deepest mourning. You don’t happen to know of any one, I suppose, who wants a nursery governess, or a clerk—without shorthand—or a tryer-on, or a copyist, or——” “For Heaven’s sake stop, Miss Pellissier,” he interrupted. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. Courtlaw might have been able to give me an idea where to stop. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse.
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