Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. Such was his fury, that if he had not been restrained by the presence of the two turnkeys, he might perhaps have anticipated the course of justice, by laying violent hands upon his victim. That was the Frenchie, Valade, surely. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. ‘Ah, non,’ exclaimed the husband. " "Ja—ja," returned the Hollander. Diable. There were so many things about her which he could not understand. She was dressed in a little white frock, with a very long body, and very short sleeves, which looked (from a certain fullness about the hips,) as if it was intended to be worn with a hoop.
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