e in nowise objected to the fair
exchange, but said "Hush!" betweenwhiles.

Past Kew and Hammersmith, on the cool smooth water; across Putney reach;
through Battersea bridge; and the City grew around them, and the shadows
of great mill-factories slept athwart the moonlight.

All the ladies prattled sweetly of a charming day when they alighted on
land. Several cavaliers crushed for the honour of conducting Mrs. Mount
to her home.

"My brougham's here; I shall go alone," said Mrs. Mount. "Some one
arrange my shawl."

She turned her back to Richard, who had a view of a delicate neck as he
manipulated with the bearing of a mailed knight.

"Which way are you going?" she asked carelessly, and, to his reply as to
the direction, said: "Then I can give you a lift," and she took his arm
with a matter-of-course air, and walked up the stairs with him.

Ripton saw what had happened. He was going to follow: the portly dame
retained him, and desired him to get her a cab.

"Oh, you happy fellow!" said the bright-eyed mignonne, passing by.

Ripton procured the cab, and stuffed it full without having to get into
it himself.

"Try and let him come in too?" said the persecuting creature, again
passing.

"Take liberties with pour men--you shan't with me," retorted the angry
bosom, and drove off.

"So she's been and gone and run away and left him after all his trouble!"
cried the pert little thing, peering into Ripton's eyes. "Now you'll
never be so foolish as to pin your faith to fat women again. There! he
shall be made happy another time." She gave his nose a comical tap, and
tripped away with her possessor.

Ripton rather forgot his friend for some minutes: Random thoughts laid
hold of him. Cabs and carriages rattled past. He was sure he had been
among members of the nobility that day, though when they went by him now
they only recognized him with an effort of the eyelids. He began to think
of the day with exultation, as an event. Recollections of the mignonne
were captivating. "Blue eyes--just what I like! And such a little
impudent nose, and red lips, pouting--the very thing I like! And her
hair? darkish, I think--say brown. And so saucy, and light on her feet.
And kind she is, or she wouldn't have talked to me like that." Thus, with
a groaning soul, he pictured her. His reason voluntarily consigned her to
the aristocracy as a natural appanage: but he did amorously wish that
Fortune had made a lord of him.

Then his min