He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. “You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. A glance sufficed to show the young man how matters stood. Half an hour passed, but Jack did not make his appearance.
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