HOOKED FOUL. 213 



reading one of Dumas' novels a shilling edition. lie 

 never offered to assist his companion. I would have said 

 t fair ' companion, according to the orthodox method, but I 

 had not, so far, discovered whether she was fair or dark. 

 The foot, so firmly planted on the punt, was the small trim 

 foot which, as a rule, belongs to dark beauties ; the hair, 

 though dark, was not black, and it was free from any 

 artificial monstrosity. Dress ? I fear you have me there : 

 never was there a worse describer of millinery than your 

 humble servant. To put it roughly, I should say the chief 

 article of that costume was a well-built shooting-jacket of 

 grey cloth. It was of a perfectly original design, and im- 

 pressed you as being fitted up with an infinity of pockets 

 and enclosing with sensible tightness a charming, round, 

 lithe figure. I forget the skirts, but they were there. 



"It was no use coughing or making a violent noise with 

 the oars strapped to our own punt : she would not look 

 round, or satisfy my curiosity in any degree. The boobiest 

 of fellows lazily looked across, lazily screwed his glass into 

 his eye, and lazily made an observation to his companion, 

 who, to do her justice, appeared not to take the slightest 

 notice of him. 



"Who were they? What were they? Which was the 

 angler? I had, in former times, seen ladies fishing for the 

 lively perch, ay, and whipping a dainty little stream with a 

 dainty little fly-rod for dainty little trout, but the boldest of 

 the lady anglers whom it haoSbeen my pleasure to know 

 had certainly drawn a line at the ' mighty luce.' 



" Doubtless this was a good-natured damsel, encouraging 

 that boobiest of fellows in his abominable idleness, by 

 arranging his tackle for him. He had kindled a cigar by 



