Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. “Have either of you been out of this room since you discovered what had happened?” he asked. These fellows must be right,” he added thoughtfully, “and yet—there’s a mystery somewhere. A pretty name for a pretty girl. You’ve placed me in a very exceptional position, Miss Stanley. She would end this sham with Manning. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. ” He beamed upon her.
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