At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. “Dear old Daddy,” she said, “he’ll make a fearful fuss. . Entering the Lodge, the first person he beheld was Austin, who was only just up, and whose toilette appeared scarcely completed. The prisoner, however, submitted more quietly than was anticipated. ’ The girl shook her head violently, setting the feathers on her hat bobbing. I can get into my clothes. Well, after all, he seemed to be turning the subject. Mrs.
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