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He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. He squinted and a disgusted look came over him. Ain't we, partner?" he added, appealing to Langley, whom punch had made rather dozy. He was all alone, too. The Morning Post was hungry for governesses and nursery governesses, but held out no other hopes; the Daily Telegraph that morning seemed eager only for skirt hands. "Oh no—no! You say this to terrify me—to try me. "But, I own, I think it is like. "But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours.
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