” Annabel rose to her feet. 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. Then a light seemed to break in upon him. ‘What’s this? Impertinence! French manners, is it?’ ‘Grace à vous,’ Melusine threw at him fiercely. And when I ask you why it is you do so, you have no answer. "England or France, London or Paris, it's all one to me, so I've you to command me. ” She drove off in a little fiacre, nodding and smiling at Sir John, who remained upon the Avenue. “Really, daddy, I am sorry for all I have done to put you out.
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