Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested. "The part was crooked," she explained. She had seen a man’s head steal out for a moment and draw the curtains a little closer. And here against a wall were the plumtrees. To the Seven Cities of Refuge Jack proceeded. ’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. I know nothing about the girl, save what you have told me. 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 shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. "So I perceive," replied Jack.
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