Meysey Hill—never your wife. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. ” “It is,” he replied, “the one humiliation of my life. You know what's what. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. ” “But why——” Sir John stopped short. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. ’ ‘Yes, but I’m afraid I am far too interested to stop mixing myself in your affairs,’ Gerald said ruefully. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. A diversion was created by the violent struggles of the little old lady. Several people were passed out on the sectional sofa, and muffled noises emanated from other rooms indicating that the party’s embers were still smoldering, but John was nowhere to be seen. This done, Edgeworth Bess, who watched her opportunity, slipped out of the Lodge.
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