” “Perhaps,” she said, “I am superstitious. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. " "It is false," cried Mrs. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. " And, as the weights were removed, he fainted. Mr. ” Anna looked at them for a moment with a pitiful attempt at a smile. Alas! that the punishment of his offences should fall on her head. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. They conversed, or more or less she interviewed him. Teenage boys never change, she thought to herself.
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