"He has it, and will ever have it," replied Mrs. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. " "I don't wonder at it," rejoined Gay. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. 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. He smothered a laugh. ” “And I have been dreaming and thinking—” “I am frightfully sorry.
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