Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. An inarticulate instinct which now found expression. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. " "Iss, missis," grinned the black. ” She peered at him through the semi-blackness. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. He was consumed with desire. Under the circumstances you must permit me to be the best judge of the identity of the young lady who did me the honour, as an old family friend, of dining with me. It was a mad half-hour. .
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