Manning loomed up ever and again into her world, full of a futile solicitude, and almost always declaring she was splendid, splendid, and wishing he could talk things out with her. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. Easy enough. She did not learn the kind of looks she had been bestowing upon him at a convent. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. She was the first to recover herself. There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike. You'd not know what to do without me, and shan't drive me off. Do you know how late it is?” She nodded. Unbelievable the pranks that she pulled—-you should have told me! I told her to leave you 157 the hell alone or she would be dealing with me next, I dropped a hint about telling her parents about her in detail.
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