“Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. "His lordship desires me to say—ough! ough!" Fresh groans and hisses. Anna glanced into her sister’s face, and rose to her feet. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. She was always breaking rules, whispering asides, intimating signals. ” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper.
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