Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. Kneebone took his leave. “I will go,” he said. \" He leaned at a steeper pitch. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. . “I hope,” said Miss Stanley, with dignity, and turned doorward with features in civil warfare. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. “How did you find me?” She asked. “You are certain of this. " "But that's not all, your honour," continued Charcam; "Mrs.
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