A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. But, you see, she HAS to lie up. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead. Professing to stand between the robber and the robbed, he himself plundered both. Love was joy, and joyous she was when alone. He had made himself master of the layout of the house, that was plain. She could not analyse what was stirring in her: the thought of losing the doll, the dog, and the cat.
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