Now, you and I can gossip at a gate, and Honi soit qui mal y pense. ‘Idiot. " "Pshaw! you'd do as much for me any day, and think no more about it. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. "I will administer it. As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady. “You must come home to him at once,” said Miss Stanley.
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