She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. "There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. “It’s all right,” he said, reassuringly to the inquirer without. “I suppose some one makes a bit on the food,” she said. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. She shook her head. “I don’t believe there is one.
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