” “Well?” “Sir John came to me—that you know—and you can guess what I told him. . "My portrait!" echoed Jack. ‘Wait for me. ‘Oh! little Vee!’ he cried, ‘little Vee!’ and put his face between his hands and sat still for a long time before he broke out again. ” So they went this time to the Rococo, in Germain Street, and up-stairs to a landing upon which stood a bald-headed waiter with whiskers like a French admiral and discretion beyond all limits in his manner. ’ Gerald tutted. ” “You are not yourself to-night, Courtlaw,” Ennison said.
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