Dark green, I think." "Any ornament in it ?" "Yes! A purple feather." The hat I had seen on the head of that hateful woman was now sufficiently described--for a man.

Sly old Toller, leaving Gloody unnoticed, and keeping his eye on me, saw the signs of conviction in my face, and said with his customary audacity: "Who is she ?" I followed, at my humble distance, the example of Sir Walter Scott, when inquisitive people asked him if he was the author of the Waverley Novels.
In plain English, I denied all knowledge of the stranger wearing the green hat.

But, I was naturally desirous of discovering next what Lady Rachel had said; and I asked to speak with Cristel.

Her far-seeing father might or might not have perceived a chance of listening to our conversation.

He led me to the door of his daughter's room; and stood close by, when I knocked softly, and begged that she would come out.
The tone of the poor girl's voice--answering, "Forgive me, sir; I can't do it"-- convicted the she-socialist (as I thought) of merciless conduct of some sort.