But it don't much matter—though he's a devilish shrewd fellow, and might have helped me out of a difficulty, had any occurred. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. If you do not find your aunt, my people will take you under wing until you can stand on your own. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago.
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