" "There was Father," suggested Angelina gently. ’ Gerald dropped down to join her just as her hand came up, clutching the handle. . Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. I don’t mind it. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. The colouring was green and white, with softly shaded electric lights, an alcove bedstead, which was a miracle of daintiness, white furniture, and a long low dressing-table littered all over with a multitude of daintily fashioned toilet appliances. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch.
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