" "Mr. . She threw hat and coat on the bed and sat down before the fire. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping. ” “Not exactly. "You," answered Jack, abruptly. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. ‘Of course the fellow has doubtless stayed put to wait for you,’ retorted Hilary. I told him instantly and shamelessly that the play was going to be worth ten thousand pounds. .
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