"You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. I thought it would be magnificent to have a great house in Paris, and more money than any other woman. "Your ladyship is far too unwell to travel," remarked the female attendant, assisting her to rise; "you'll never be able to reach Manchester. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. But Jack did not heed them. "But McClintock agrees to take you both—because he's as big a fool as I am. What a pig she was. I am loved.
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