At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. It’s these damned novels. 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. Austin was dismissing a host of inquirers who had been attracted thither by the news,—for it had already been extensively noised abroad. “It isn’t objections exactly. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. "What do you want fot that coat, friend?" asked Jack, as he came up. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention.
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