Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. "The poor things!" The manager laughed. A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment. "Farewell!" cried Jack, breaking from them, and rushing down the street. ‘She would not tell me. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. The faithful fellow will never leave me. Walpole's order to that effect—but not before. Nobody can anticipate your next move. Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman.
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