" "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. ’ ‘Hadn’t the wit, you mean. I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. He never retires to rest till daybreak—if at all. ‘Yes, do,’ approved Lucilla. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. Don’t stand gawping, man. ” Then a burst of applause. That really settles about that. " "No fear of that," laughed Kneebone.
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