The name of this damsel was Edgeworth Bess; and, as her fascinations will not, perhaps, be found to be without some influence upon the future fortunes of her boyish admirer, we have thought it worth while to be thus particular in describing them. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and replace it. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. \" Lucy said. For a long time neither spoke again. ” He too rose. “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs.
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