PRETTY POLLY P.[¹]
FROM “PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON.”
[¹] Copyright, T. B. Peterson & Bros.
RAMLEIGH,” ventured little Popham, “you haven’t spoken for half an hour, by Jupiter!”
Framleigh—Captain Gaston Framleigh, of the Guards—did not move. He had been sitting for some time before the window, in a position more noticeable for ease than elegance, with his arms folded upon the back of his chair; and he did not disturb himself, when he condescended to reply to his youthful admirer and ally.
“Half an hour?” he said, with a tranquil half-drawl, which had a touch of affectation in its coolness, and yet was scarcely pronounced enough to be disagreeable, or even unpleasant. “Haven’t I?”
“No, you have not,” returned Popham, encouraged by the negative amiability of his manner. “I am sure it is half an hour. What’s up?”
“Up?” still half-abstractedly. “Nothing! Fact is, I believe I have been watching a girl!”