“You’re Glorious!” said Miss Miniver in tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann Veronica’s face. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. . The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. She despises one-piece swimsuits, she calls them ‘old hag bathing dresses’ no matter how low-cut they are.
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