" "Norris!" gasped Lady Trafford, trembling violently. " "He's coming!" cried Jack, stamping his foot, with vexation. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. 1. F. "I beg pardon," he said. He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie. “But, how,” he said, sitting up astonished beyond measure, “not go on?” “I have been thinking while you have been talking. .
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