"In what way do you mean?" I said.
She looked at me cunningly.
"Now you're spyin'. It's dirty work and I won't 'ave it 'ere. You might be the Proctor hisself for all I cares—you're not going to ferret nothink out of me."
Hereupon she rose with great dignity and plainly indicated that the interview was at an end.
La Haute Cuisine.
"Cook; French; age 38; wages £25-£30 week."—Morning Post.
TO THE DEATH.
[According to the papers, two Frenchmen have agreed to fight a duel in aeroplanes.]