peth Gordon came up to town for the

the dear old lady, before she had fully recovered from her own sore loss, took upon herself a

on around her since she first came to London, fifty years before. She had known Wellington, and Palmerston, and John Russell, and Disraeli, and Gladstone, and Loui

that she knew Margaret Brandt, and Miss Brandt's very frequent visits

said, the record of the milkman,-and, though his dear old friend might rate him gently as to the motives for his coming,

sed Margaret with her until that aft

t her natural self. She was charming and gracious to everyone-even to Charles Pixley, the while he swa

quiet recollection of every smallest detail of it would set him all aglow with hope for days after each chance meeting. And so he h

ing Mr. Pixley's possible intentions. For she was a shrewd, shrewd woman, and those soft brown eyes of hers saw far and

e heard she had money. The troublesome accident of her possessions should not come between them if he could help it. He did not for one moment believe she would ever think so ill of him as to be

she knew more of the heart and mind of the other than she cared to say in plain words; but, as a woman, she would naturally abide by the rules of the game. In the smaller games of life it is woman's privilege, indee

and afforded him no solid standing-ground for the sole of his hopeful foot, but left him to discover that for himse

andt, and he would not for one moment admit the possibi