Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. His hand flew across the paper. Gerald, whose French was adequate from his military service abroad, was able to respond suitably to such remarks as the ladies addressed to him, but was less exercised by their fashionable dress than their decidedly careworn appearance. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. “It is from his brother in Paris. The next few hours will tell.
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