“I am just back from Paris. " "It is strange," replied Winifred, artlessly. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. While he was meditating flight in this way, and tossing about on the straw, he chanced upon an old broken and rusty fork. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. " "Hark!" cried Winifred, "Thames is arrived.
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