Bring your liveralong?" "I sometimes wonder if I have any—if it isn't the hole where it was that aches. Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together. ” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river. "Ah!" cried Wild, laying down his pen and looking up with a smile of satisfaction. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy.
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