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A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. She had not seen Ramage for ten or eleven days, and she was quite ready for a gossip with him. “To the view that all those Splendid Women in the movement ought to have votes. The theme was a masquerade. The next weekend arrived and she made her decision. After some time, the scuffle grew more and more distant, until nothing could be heard. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. Wait a little; rest.
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