“Bohemianism is the least understood word ever coined. “Excuse me a moment. How men suffer for the foolish things they do!" "Ay to that. " "Now for it," thought the woollen-draper, "I shall, at least, ascertain how the land lies. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. ” So they went this time to the Rococo, in Germain Street, and up-stairs to a landing upon which stood a bald-headed waiter with whiskers like a French admiral and discretion beyond all limits in his manner. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. ‘Mary was indeed naïve, but there I should say the similarity ends. ’ ‘Yes, but I’m hanged if I see what your game is.
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