The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. The door was then locked, and he was left alone. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. His lips were tight drawn. She found it rather funny that he always wore the shirt fastidiously tucked in and never wore the ensemble without a stiff brown leather belt. " "Norris!" gasped Lady Trafford, trembling violently. From first to last, on this occasion, her aunt expostulated for about two hours. "I'll make sure work this time," he added, about to repeat the blow.
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