"You think our sex has no feeling, I suppose, Sir," cried Mrs. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel. ” “And yet,” he murmured, “one of the greatest of our writers has declared that the true spirit of Bohemianism is denied to your sex. Which is C?” Ann Veronica, with a curious sinking of the heart, regarded the black cavities of the vans. " "You!" "Didn't I tell you that the fugitive Darrell gave me a glove! But we'll speak of this hereafter. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. His face turned a dark crimson.
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