The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. His quiet, kindly smile implied his serene disbelief in any confessible thing. “They have just taken this house from Lady Cellender. He stopped in mid-sentence, and Ann Veronica opened the door for her aunt. Supper was over. There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one.
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