” John said. ’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. “It’s very late. Wood," replied Jack, calmly. His back was no sooner turned, than she slipped this casket into the box. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. As pretty as its owner.
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