"He's dead; come look at him," Jet adds; but Zoe retreats to the front door in haste.
"Come in, come in, quick, till I shut the door; surely the wretches won't chase us in the house."
The door shuts to with a defiant bang, while the agitated young lady once more recovers her tranquility of mind.
CHAPTER XII.
TOO CONFIDING. "YES, IT IS MY HUSBAND."
"I never judge from manners, for I once had my pocket picked by the civilest gentleman I ever met with."
—Lord Byron.
The bright sunlight played coyly through the half-closed shutter, and fell across the table, brightening up the dusty old books, slates, and every other article which helped to make up the furnishing of the private office of Fanchon, Litchfield & Co.
"The note falls due to-morrow at the bank, for the three hundred you accommodated me with; but no matter, that will be all right; you go and transact the business abroad for the firm, and I will attend to lifting your note."