She sat down by the paperrack with a general feeling of resemblance to Vivie Warren, and looked through the Morning Post and Standard and Telegraph, and afterward the half-penny sheets. “Umph!” he said, and regarded his letter doubtfully before consigning it to the pillar-box. “You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions. Her father read a draft prospectus warily, and her aunt dropped fragments of her projects for managing while the cook had a holiday. Light the lantern.
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