"Presently, Embro," said Lefevre, who had just perceived his friend Courtney. "Ha, Julius!" said he, crossing to him and taking his hand; "you're looking uncommonly well."
"Yes," said Julius, "I am well."
"And where have you been all this while?" asked the doctor.
"Oh," said Julius, turning his gaze again out of window, "I have been rambling everywhere, between Dan and Beersheba."
"And all is vanity, eh?" said the doctor.
"Well," said Julius, looking at him, "that depends—that very much depends. But can there be any question of vanity or vexation in this sweet, glorious sunshine?" and he stretched out his hands as if he burgeoned forth to welcome it.
"Perhaps not," said Lefevre. "Come and sit down and let us talk."
They were retiring from the window when Embro's voice again sounded at Lefevre's elbow—"Come now, Lefevre; what's the meaning of that Paris case?"
Embro answered by handing him the paper. He took it, and read as follows:—