"Gone," replied the wounded man. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. ” “And yet,” he murmured, “one of the greatest of our writers has declared that the true spirit of Bohemianism is denied to your sex. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. “You go home,” he said, at parting; “you go home. I proceeded to Manchester, to investigate the matter further, and when there ascertained, beyond a doubt, that you were the eldest daughter of Sir Montacute Trenchard. I have a different game to play; and it'll be your own fault, if you don't come off the winner.
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