He recognised this object at once. Shoplatch. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. But I can't consent to the course you would pursue—at least, not till I've given it due consideration. " "Caught you napping, eh?" rejoined Ireton, with a laugh. There was a pause, and then the front door slammed.
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