’ ‘Melusine!’ came sharply from the doorway. We're lost. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. “I wouldn’t. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. ’ ‘Sport!’ grumbled her betrothed, but he accompanied them across the ballroom all the same.
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