" "Iss, Massa Ireton," replied the black. But I waited in vain. The summons was instantly answered by a shop-boy. And Ritter’s, too, was very amusing and foreign and discreet; a little rambling room with a number of small tables, with red electric light shades and flowers. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path. ‘For that I shall certainly not leave until you have told me every tiny detail. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked.
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