’ Then she came closer and put her hand on his chest so that it rested on the braid that decorated his scarlet coat. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. Her parents totally look the other way. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. ’ With difficulty, Gerald bit back a laugh.
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