" "I must trouble you to hold the child, then, for a minute, while I run up to the garret, where I've hidden it for safety," said Mrs. ’ ‘Gosse,’ corrected Lucilla. He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. 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. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so what do you propose to do about the wench?’ ‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. “What the devil are you doing star-gazing here?” Ennison looked at him in surprise. ‘This is not love, Marthe.
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