cime c is rat you like, Miss Lilly, to sit closer to the flames?

    I ans.

    You like to be cool, he says.

    I like the shadows.

    akes it as a kind of invitation, lifts , tc rousers and sits beside me, not too close, still racted by t whe shadows.

    Mr rey stands at ts a glass. My uncle tled into s est p, sir, by seventy years! tions erature no shoes my horse . . .

    I stifle a yaurns to me. I say, Forgive me Vf Rivers.

    care for your uncles sub ject.

    ill speaks in a murmur; and I am obliged to make my oary, I say t is noto me.

    Again alks on It is only curious, to see a lady left cool and unmoved, by t ion.

    But t you speak of; and arent tter best, moved least? I catc from experience of t from my reading merely. But I s—o e a palling in eries of  too often to tiny of wafer and wine.

    blink. At last  laughs.

    You are very uncommon, Miss Lilly

    I look aand.

    Aone is a bitter one. Perion a sort of misfortune.

    On trary.  be a misfortune, to be ance, in tter of a gentlemans attentions. I am a connoisseur of all ties of metleman migo compliment a lady

    s e o . ted indeed,  only to compliment you.

    I  a gentlemen s, t one.

    Per in t you are used to. But in life—a great many; and one t is chief.

    I supposed, I say, t t ten for.

    O, but ten for somet of—money. Every gentleman minds t. And those of us who are

    not quite so gentlemanly as  most of all.—I am sorry to