It answers to Oscar.

It doesn't answer to Nugent--that's all." She stopped any further inquiries by proposing that we should finish the evening with some music, in her own sitting-room, on the other side of the house.

When we were seated together at the pianoforte--with the twin-brothers established as our audience at the other end of the room--she whispered in my ear: "I'll tell _you!_" "Tell me what ?" "How I know which is which when they both of them take my hand.

When Oscar takes it, a delicious tingle runs from his hand into mine, and steals all over me.

I can't describe it any better than that." "I understand.