" "Now for it," thought the woollen-draper, "I shall, at least, ascertain how the land lies. ’ She shrugged fatalistically. Here goes. ‘Tchah! So you’re the whelp’s girl, are you? Suppose you’ve nothing but that villainous French in your tongue. Their flitting hands were always touching. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. , and munched a roll and butter with hearty appetite. These dinners, from their lavish display of ambiguous hors d’oeuvre to their skimpy ices in dishes of frilled paper, with their Chianti flasks and Parmesan dishes and their polyglot waiters and polyglot clientele, were very funny and bright; and she really liked Ramage, and valued his help and advice. Wood, however, was too much excited to attend to the caution.
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