A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion. Annabel saw it, and suddenly changed her tone. ‘I have no idea. Roused by Ben's warning, the carpenter looked up and could just perceive the dusky outline of the bridge looming through the darkness, and rendered indistinctly visible by the many lights that twinkled from the windows of the lofty houses. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged.
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