We dine at seven-thirty. 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. Mr. But of what use to wear it when there was no one of importance to see and admire? ‘For shame, Melusine,’ protested Lucy, as the butler bowed himself out of the room. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. . Larry kept digging heartily into his spaghetti, not intrigued in the slightest. “Let me know the truth.
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