” Anna shook hands with Brendon—a young man also, but older and more selfpossessed than Sydney Courtlaw. ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Gerald. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. Since then he has persistently annoyed me. " "Ruth what?" "Enschede; Ruth Enschede. ” “Where do you go?” “Oh!—Alps. ‘Do not beg my pardon. Move. ” He rose from his chair, and walked restlessly up and down the room. He glanced up. Wood,—"he'll never mend. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping.
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