"What is it?" "The night," she answered. Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. "O lud! what an exquisite box!" cried Edgeworth Bess. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. “No thanks. John. There is the election——” He laughed derisively.
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