Where am I going to find another woman who can make dresses like Anne--she saves me a hundred a year--I don't care if she flirted with fifty ticket collectors.

I suppose you got this story from Effie; the child ought to be whipped for tale-bearing, and I daresay that it is not true." "Effie will certainly not be whipped," answered Geoffrey sternly.

"I warn you that it will go very badly with anybody who lays a finger on her." "Oh, very well, ruin the child.

Go your own way, Geoffrey! At any rate I am not going to stop here to listen to any more abuse.

Good-night," and she went.
Geoffrey sat down, and lit a cigarette.