“Is Miss Stanley coming up with us?” “I go second,” she said, “and change at Wimbledon. I spent my fair share of time in the closet. Gerald lost his head. I’ve no name for it yet. His spirits began to rise. But, though I cannot reward you, Heaven will. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. It added to the picturesqueness of the Sha-mien night to observe these gaily coloured lanterns dancing hither and yon like June fireflies in a meadow. She stole her glances sideways like the rest of the women.
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