"It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. "Is it poison?" she asked. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. "Then you need no further information from me," rejoined Jackson, sternly. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. Entering the Lodge, the first person he beheld was Austin, who was only just up, and whose toilette appeared scarcely completed. “A serious question.
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