” “What case?” “A divorce—or something—I don’t know. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. . “Goodnight. I heard only after it was all over. No, I don't, either; because——" "Well, Winny?" "I don't know what I was going to say," she added, in some confusion; "only I'm sorry you were born a gentleman. "He'll learn that his plans will be defeated. Byrom,—a poet of whom his native town, Manchester, may be justly proud; and his features and figure have been preserved by the most illustrious of his companions on the present occasion,—Hogarth,—in the levée in the "Rake's Progress," and in "Southwark Fair.
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