At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. Wood had prevented him from paying much attention to the previous scene. Wood will be here presently. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. Some of their specimens—wonderfully selected, wonderfully got up. But it seemed that their presence was not even suspected. We’re different. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley.
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