" Mrs. They left the castle that day for another, packing with them the leftovers of the troupe that followed them from place to place, never asking about the occasional disappearance of one of its unlucky members. But when he looked again, there she was! "I don't understand," he said, finally. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. Take care of yourselves, gentlemen, and your governor will take care of you. She was given a glimpse of his soul. Come!” They went out together and he called a hansom. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book.
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