"Oh, Heavens!" cried Mrs. F. She was for ever scanning luggage and finding her way about the world, via these miniature pictures. Certainly, there wasn't a thing in the pockets. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. He was an outside broker and the proprietor of a financial newspaper; he had come up very rapidly in the last few years, and Mr. Stanley as they drew alongside, to account for his own ruffled and heated expression. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. . Suddenly he burst into wild laughter; but equally as suddenly something strangled the sound in his throat. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. I am a man—of a sort of experience.
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