“It doesn’t matter,” she said, after a long interval, “if they are absurd. The Master of the Mint was accompanied by another gentleman almost as portly as himself, and quite as deliberate in his movements. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. ” “How?” “Well—a little clumsily. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page.
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