Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. She had all the fascination of being absolutely perplexing in this respect. She obeyed, extending her arm. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. Diane suggested to him that he retire early, and he did so agreeably, halfknowing it to be an order. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. As soon as the latter beheld him, she uttered a loud scream, and fainted.
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