Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. “Manning,” she said, and contemplated a figure of inaggressive persistence. Manning. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. He dug about in his mind for a term to fit her, and he came upon the word new. 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. “I must go. This too shall pass. " "Never fear, Sir," replied Marvel. "Very well, Mr.
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