Mr. ’ Then he bowed, raising his hat in salute and, crossing to the coach, spoke briefly to its driver and leapt into it without looking back. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. I must see if I have a gown fit to wear. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature. ” He stopped abruptly. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard.
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