"Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business—if you really are privy to the affair——" "We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. . "What is it?" "The night," she answered. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. He had not remembered her as looking so small. .
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