“I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of course. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move.
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