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" "I should like a little of that plum-tart," said Mrs. Here is one verse. Their laughter, together with the agonized yowling of the dog, drew a circle of wondering natives; and at length McClintock himself came over to see what the racket was about. He propped himself up on one arm, kissing her passionately. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity. “By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me. Gosse were you born, and Gosse will you remain to your death. Annabel, I cannot believe it.
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