Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. “Hello, Gwen!” said Ann Veronica, trying to put every one at their ease. Darrell's eyes were of that clear gray which it is difficult to distinguish from blue by day and black at night; and his rich brown hair, which he could not consent to part with, even on the promise of a new and modish peruke from his adoptive father, fell in thick glossy ringlets upon his shoulders; whereas Jack's close black crop imparted the peculiar bullet-shape we have noticed, to his head. They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of course. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun.
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