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. "A storm!" exclaimed the landlord. He recognized me at once, and he behaved like a madman. "They'll escape. . " "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. “Well, you certainly did very well at tea,” she remarked. “We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared.
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