“Did he?” she cried with delight. “He noticed that? How charming! I thought he would be mad with jealousy.

“Ginevra, have you seriously done with Dr. Bretton? Do you want him to give you up?”

“Oh! you know he can’t do that; but wasn’t he mad?”

“Quite mad,” I assented; “as mad as a March hare.”

“Well, and how ever did you get him home?”

“How ever , indeed! Have you no pity on his poor mother and me? Fancy us holding him tight down in the carriage, and he raving between us, fit to drive everybody delirious. The very coachman went wrong, somehow, and we lost our way.”