” “Annabel! Annabel!” Annabel stamped her foot. Ann Veronica hesitated with a question that had leaped up in her mind, and that she felt was cruel. ’ ‘But tell,’ demanded Melusine impatiently. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. Is there anything you want?" She laid her hand on his forehead, and found it without fever. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. This made the eleventh.
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