“Beats me. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. One with the appearance of a bald little gnome yawned agonizingly. —There, Mr. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. Let me lie in Willesden churchyard. ” “And why shouldn’t you?” “I felt that sort of thing couldn’t go on.
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