How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. Do you hear?" "I do, Sir," replied Austin respectfully. She pushed him gently on the chest. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. Manning, and glanced round hastily for further horticultural points of interest in secluded corners. Austin was dismissing a host of inquirers who had been attracted thither by the news,—for it had already been extensively noised abroad. He was an outside broker and the proprietor of a financial newspaper; he had come up very rapidly in the last few years, and Mr. Wild had escaped. “What do you mean?” she asked.
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