| The instant that Lady Peggy felt herself in the highwayman’s saddle, she knew that her wrists had met their match. | [Page 186] |
| “I am Sir Robin McTart! Who, the devil, are you?” | [Page 278] |
| “Ah, Peggy, my adored one,” says he, devouring her pale face with his happy eyes. | [Page 336] |
ENVOI
When gay postillions cracked their whips,
And gallants gemmed their chat with quips;
When patches nestled o’er sweet lips
At choc’late times; and, ’twixt the sips,
Fair Ladies gave their gossips tips;
Then, in Levantine gown and brooch,