Clientèle was of the most transitory character. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. Innumerable little puzzles were instantly solved. “I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. On searching the grounds, we found two suspicious-looking fellows in the garden, and had scarcely secured them, when your mother's cries summoned us hither, just in time to preserve her. He stole his chance and thrust his hand towards hers. “How dare you!” she panted, with her world screaming and grimacing insult at her. I do not want to get only a second-hand flavour of life.
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