Her Faithful Knight — page 220: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CHAPTER XXI. A WIDOWER’S LETTER. The Hon. Darcy Derrick was destined to see and be seen that night by both the sister into whose lives he had brought so much perplexity and suffering. Seated before a desk, her fair head bent over a pile of manuscript, upon which she was busily writing from dic- tation of a romance of the high-flown and sickly senti- mental order, Dorothy had suddenly put down her pen and raised her head in the act of listening. _ “Yady Madelaine bent her proud, white neck until her soft cheek was pillowed on Sir Ughtred’s broad shoulder,” dictated the little, old lady novelist. Mechanically Dorothy tok up her pen, but she wrote not a word. “You are not attending, Miss Knight!” exclaimed her employer. “Are youill? What is the matter with you?” Dorothy had sprung to her feet, pale and trembling. “My sister wants me!” she murmured. “She is calling me!”’ | “Even if she is, you can’t possibly hear her at this dis- tance.” “T can hear her in my heart! Please excuse me—I am very sorry—but I must go to her!” And swiftly, before the indignant little old lady had time to interfere, Miss Knight had flung down her pen, seized her hat and coat and darted down the stairs and out at the entrance door. Right on the threshold she ran into a man who was standing there, hailing a passing hansom cab. Eomichboo cS (G0)