“Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. It is at the lodge that we stay. ” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. " "Keep in your own room, at all events," rejoined Kneebone. S. ’ Still the girl said nothing.
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