"Do you realize that you are several kinds of a damned scoundrel?" he began. She pulled him towards the bed. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. "Don't alarm yourself about him, Sir," replied Austin. ‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. . . MANNING,—I find it very difficult to answer your letter.
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