The Supper at Mr. ’ ‘He did, you know,’ grinned Gerald. “Annabel;” he moaned. His eyes were fixed upon her face, but he opened his lips twice before he spoke. " "I don't wonder at it," rejoined Gay. Mrs. E. He kissed her ardently. But shortly this movement ceased. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. But the besetting evil of the place, and that which drew down the severest censures of the writers above-mentioned, was that this spot,—which of all others should have been most free from such intrusion—was made a public exhibition. I wonder what it was. ” He coughed gently.
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