‘It is in no way your affair, monsieur, and you will unhand me at once. "Are you hurt, Thames?" asked Jack, anxiously. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him. They drove around town that night in his Buick convertible. "What did the old fellow judge from, eh, Joan?" asked he. ‘You are related to General Lord Charvill?’ ‘Monsieur le baron, he is my grandpére,’ she confirmed. He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear.
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