‘Do you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own good. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. " "Can I trust him?" mused Jack. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”. "And now, farewell, Mr. ” “No! I’ll explain lower.
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