A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. Then, very awkwardly, he took a stool and placed it at the end of Ann Veronica’s table, and sat down. "Mercy!" screamed Mrs. “Don’t you understand, Nigel,” she said softly, “that it was precisely for this I have worked so hard. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same.
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