Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. "Hey, you!" Ah Cum stopped and turned. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. . ‘You do not use your head, Emile,’ she said flatly. “I can’t endure it,” she said. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. 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. "You know what I mean," said the trader, gravely. ” She taunted.
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