“Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. That's a queer yarn. But you must promise me not to go near that abandoned hussy at Willesden. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. Do you remember what I said when you took me at the Mint four days ago? I told you my turn would come. ’ She simpered, and withdrew one hand so that she might smack his fingers playfully. Jiggle-joggle, jiggle-joggle…! For each pause she was grateful. "Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly. That might happen on her birthday—in August.
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