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"Yes," replied Maurice, deliberately. "I suspect Dido, the negress." "You go to ruin us," wept Mrs. Dallas. "Well, Dido can do nothing," said Maurice, in a jesting tone, "unless you want her to forbid the banns.".

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He wrote from Rome this time, where he had been sent on some sort of diplomatic mission to the Vatican, and his letter about the Ancient City on her seven hills was a prose-poem in itself. I was so interested that I read on and on and forgot it was almost toast-apple time. "I don't know if you'll consider them so; but Mrs. Dallas and her daughter go back to their estates in Barbadoes within the month." "I do, too, now," she declared. "But I've been paid up for my evilmindedness by losing half my good time. I think I'll try to find her and be awfully agreeable to her. I'll feel better for it, I'm sure." "And where is Mr. Sarby?" asked the inspector, as they turned to leave the room..