"What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. But the lady was not so easily won; and though she did not absolutely reject him, gave him very slight hopes. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. " She departed reluctantly. Her concluding paragraph was, on the whole, perhaps, hardly starchy enough. There, in a little tea and sweetstuff shop, she bought and consumed slowly and absent-mindedly the insufficient nourishment that is natural to her sex on such occasions.
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