"Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. “No, I’m not a virgin. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage. Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. Austin was dismissing a host of inquirers who had been attracted thither by the news,—for it had already been extensively noised abroad. They were only passers-by. ” He rejoiced over this emancipation. But he could only discern a black and shapeless mass, floating upon the water at a little distance, which, to his bewildered fancy, appeared absolutely standing still.
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