”
209
Clotilde was no fool. "
"You've arrived in the very nick of time," rejoined Jonathan; "and I'll take care
your services are not overlooked. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or
habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head,
harmonized with her masculine appearance. We,
ourselves, are scarcely the same we were twelve years ago. “I am getting plain,” she said, with a little shudder. The evening
was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. . Had I not known that you and your
affianced bride are dearer to him than life I should have used this money to
secure my own safety. Her
secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of
telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a
white, fantastically white, maiden. .
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