Earles threw down his pen with a little exclamation. Brother and Sister. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. Don't lay it all to the boy. There it is. “I must live, you know. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. Here we go, thought Gerald. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. “It is Rhea’s infant. You can do it, if you will. ” She laughed at him easily and mirthfully.
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