” “Wherever you like!” he answered, a little absently. ‘Tell me, my boy. ’ ‘All the way to England?’ She opened wide eyes. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. “I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years. ” They heard a man’s voice outside. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. He has nothing to fall back upon, no substitute; but a woman always has the mother love. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely.
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