Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly. " "Of course," rejoined Quilt, maliciously; "every thief is so. "Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate. Play foul, and win. He lowered his voice a little and leaned over towards her. “Here goes,” he said. co. ‘What is it?’ asked Roding. “Everything very nice, I am sure,” Miss Stanley murmured to Capes as he steered her to a place upon the little sofa before the fire. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes.
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