“You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. He waved to her. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. They crossed the Park to the westward, and then turned back and walked round the circle about the Royal Botanical Gardens and then southwardly toward Waterloo. I know nothing about the matter, but I feel convinced that you are right.
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