You might even tire of me by then, you know. Ennison reeled, and almost fell. “I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms. She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously. Do I, Bess, eh?" "Nobody whatever, love," replied Edgeworth Bess; "nobody but me, dear. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. "Thanks. If he did resemble me, I shouldn't care about him.
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