"I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. It was an overcast day, albeit not foggy, and the electric light shades glowed warmly, and an Italian waiter with insufficient English took Ramage’s orders, and waited with an appearance of affection. ‘Gerald, this is a nun’s habit. Hurry to me, I entreat you. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. ’ It seems that I was mistaken. "Jack," said the other, sternly; "don't provoke me further, or I'll give you a thrashing.
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