‘Jacques? Oh, that is news of the very finest. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. ” The cabman, knocking with the butt end of his whip upon the window, reminded her that he was in a similar predicament. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. “You were going to answer it?” “Certainly not!” she said deliberately. A familiar figure was making his way towards them. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair.
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