“Flo, you’ve never asked me the details of my last news from Charlie,” whispered Lucy—speaking playfully and meaning no reflection on her sister—as she and the Brands stood on the stairs waiting for the drawing up of Lucy’s cab.
“There, make a grievance and a fuss over that!” cried Florence, her nerves breaking between the tension in which they had been held by her anxiety that “all should go off well,” and the consciousness of sundry lapses which she felt sure had not escaped the lynx eyes of Mrs. Jinxson. “Of course, I expect you to tell me anything that is worth telling! But you just lie in wait to catch——”
“Your cab, mum,” said the page.
And Lucy hastily kissed Florence and kept her news to herself.
(To be continued.)
BOOKS BEFORE TRAVEL.
By DORA DE BLAQUIÈRE.