When Mrs. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. “The primitive government was the Matriarchate. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him. It is picturesquely situated beneath a tree on the high road, not far from the little hostel before mentioned, and at no great distance from the church. But a middle-aged man like Ramage ought to know better than to draw out a girl, the daughter of a friend and neighbor. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. .
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