“Mr. Let me only wear your livery. ’ To his intense satisfaction, mademoiselle burst into laughter. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. ‘They hold their nose up, so. Capes? Well, think what it must be to live in them—soul and mind and body! It’s fun for a man to jest at our position. .
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