"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. You know I am in love with you. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. "Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. “That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day.
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