He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. She decided to go on, after a momentary halt. We shall take an eternal farewell of each other. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so.
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