“I wonder!” said Miss Stanley. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. She felt she had to go on. “When did you start?” She said between puffs. “My dear Anna,” he answered. The intoxicating sense of novelty had given place to a more business-like mood.
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