Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. " "Come, jump up," cried Blueskin, mounting his steed, "and I'll soon wisk you to town. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. Some friends who saw us dining together persist in alluding to her as Miss Annabel Pellissier.
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