"Uncle Jaffery, have you got one ?" "No," said he, "You have to be born, like Uncle Adrian, with a golden pen in your mouth." The lucky advent of the Archangel Gabriel, with a grin on his face and a doll in his mouth--the Archangel Gabriel, commonly known as Gabs, and so termed on account of his archi-angelic disposition, a hideous mongrel with a white patch over one eye and a brown patch over the other, with the nose of a collie and the legs of a Great Dane and the tail of a fox-terrier, whose mongreldom, however, Adrian repudiated by the bold assertion that he was a Zanzibar bloodhound--the lucky advent of this pampered and over-affectionate quadruped directed Susan's mind from the somewhat difficult conversation.

She ran off, forthwith, to the rescue or her doll; but later (I heard) her nurse was sore put to it to explain the mystery of the golden pen.
"So much for Adrian.

I'm tired of the auriferous person," said I, waving a hand.

"What about yourself?
What about the dynamic widow ?" "Oh, damn the dynamic widow," he replied, corrugating his serene and sunburnt forehead.

"I've come down here to forget her.