But I expect him back every minute. Surely he was imagining this picture. Kent say to it?" "He thinks so highly of it, that he says if he had a daughter he would give her to the artist," answered Gay, a little maliciously. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. "He is respited?" "Alas! no," replied Thames, sadly. "Spring!—I never knew any. The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute.
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