” She looked at him, pleading, miserable in her fancy gown. \" \"It's okay. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. Everybody who’s going to develop into a woman. Got detained in the City, and——” Then he met the fixed, breathless gaze of those wonderful eyes from the other side of the table, and he, too, broke off in the middle of his sentence. No great lover of state or state costume at any time, he was generally, towards the close of an evening, completely in dishabille, and in this condition he now presented himself to his subjects. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes.
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