He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. “So how about this Friday?” He asked. Miss Stanley, it was manifest, had given him Ann Veronica’s address. The name of this damsel was Edgeworth Bess; and, as her fascinations will not, perhaps, be found to be without some influence upon the future fortunes of her boyish admirer, we have thought it worth while to be thus particular in describing them.
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