At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. "I am very wicked," she said. I am quite sure that I do not know you. "I can't tell you!" she replied, blushing deeply, and clinching her little hand as tightly as possible; "it's a secret!" "I'll soon find it out, then," he returned, playfully forcing the paper from her grasp. " "Do you suppose he knew?" "He? Oh, you mean Mr.
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