'I just love, as Mrs.Thornburgh says, to hear her instructing other people in their own particular trades.

She didn't get much change out of him.' Rose gave Agnes her tea, and then, bending forward, with one hand on her heart, said in a stage whisper, with a dramatic glance round the garden, 'My heart is whole.

How is yours ?' '_Intact_,' said Agnes, calmly, as that French bric-a-brac man in the Brompton Road used to say of his pots.

But he is very nice.' 'Oh, charming! But when my destiny arrives'-and Rose, returning to her tea, swept her little hand with a teaspoon in it eloquently round-'he won't have his hair cut close.

I must have luxuriant locks, and I will take _no_ excuse! _Une chevelure de poete_, the eye of an eagle, the moustache of a hero, the hand of a Rubinstein, and, if it pleases him, the temper of a fiend.