hung them under the ears of cart-mules and ponies?—a country where they treated the foxes as they did, to say nothing of the Holy Father, must be a land of malediction.
He smoked through two great cigars, and walked about the town unhappily, and when it was noon went upstairs to his sister. He did not dare to go a moment before the time.
"Dear Freddie, is it you?" said the Lady Hilda, listlessly; she looked very lovely and very languid, in a white cashmere morning gown, with a quantity of lace about it, and her hair all thrown back loosely, and tied like the Venere alla Spina's.
"I have to go away by the night train. Poor little Cheviot's ill," he said disconsolately, as he took her hand; he never ventured on kissing her; years before she had taught him that such endearments were very ridiculous and disagreeable.
"Dear me, I am very sorry. Will you have coffee, or tea, or wine?" she asked absently, as she went to the table where the breakfast was.
"Chevy's very ill," said Lord Clairvaux,
