He laughed. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. . A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. There was hope for me then. There was no mistaking his intentions this time. Brown broke the silence. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain.
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