'Where did she stop you, my man ?' he asked idly.
'Half a mile this side of Oxford, your worship,' the postboy answered, knuckling his forehead.

'Seemed to me, sir, she was a play actress.

She had that sort of way with her.' The gentleman nodded and closed the window.

The night had so far set in that they had brought out lights; as he sat back, one of these, hung in the carriage, shone on his features and betrayed that he was smiling.

In this mood his face lost the air of affected refinement--which was then the mode, and went perfectly with a wig and ruffles--and appeared in its true cast, plain and strong, yet not uncomely.