” She laughed softly to herself. Not so Gosse. As O'Higgins signed the hotel register, his keen glance took in the latest signatures. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. “I wondered. "How very like it is!" "Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, "that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended. Come now, I am very glad to see you again so soon, mademoiselle whatever-your-name-is.
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