“Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. It was immediately opened by a man with light eyelashes and a manner suggestive of restrained passion. I love everything to-day, and all of you, but I love this, this—this innocence upon us most of all. “Why?” he asked, suavely. "The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market.
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