charmingly . . . . You are laughing at me again?"
"No—I am only smiling at my own thoughts."
"What are they?" (without waiting for an answer)—"Now do tell me where you are going."
"Where Fate may lead me. My business is to earn a living where I can find it."
"To earn!" (in consternation) "are you poor then?"
"As poor as Job."
(After a pause) "Bah! how unpleasant! But I know what it is to be poor: they are poor enough at home—papa and mama, and all of them. Papa is called Captain Fanshawe; he is an officer on half-pay, but well-descended, and some of our connections are great enough; but my uncle and god-papa De Bassompierre, who lives in France, is the only one that helps us: he educates us girls. I have five sisters and three brothers. By-and-by we are to marry—rather elderly gentlemen, I suppose, with cash: papa and mama manage that. My sister Augusta is married now to a man much older-looking than papa. Augusta is very beautiful—not in my style—but dark; her husband,
