No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. You have somewhere to go to in London, I hope. "Not before it's needed," returned Jack, aloud; adding in a whisper, "get upon my shoulders, Thames. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. Or, if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head. Good night! God bless you!" Upon this, there was a great shaking of hands, with renewed apologies and protestations of friendship on both sides; after which Mr. Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony. Earles closed the piano with a little bang.
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