Already Cosette was her chosen friend. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. Brown gave four counts and she delivered her first a cappella violin solo. "Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. Do sit down, dear boy. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. .
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