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 But not so Eleanor, or Mr. James Brentwood Baldwin, who now appeared hovering on the edge of the group. Eleanor, her face very pale, fixed her eyes on Senator Mulligan with a haughty stare, which he perfectly understood, and resented. A gleam shot into his eye which showed that he meant to pay her back for her insolence. Mr. Baldwin, in the most acute misery, practised the goose-step and tried to stem the tide of Senator Mulligan's eloquence.

"Er—ah—eh—Mr. Mulligan, your compliments to the late Mr. Daniel Hogan are very much appreciated by me, as well as Mrs. Baldwin—especially as I recall with pleasure—what an—er—important—er—factor you were in the commerce of our native place. For myself, business has no real charm for me," continued Mr. Baldwin, turning to the British Ambassador. "I have been reasonably successful, but my taste always lay in the way of books. I live among my books."

Up to this time Mr. Mulligan had spoken with a very fair Irish accent, but now he chose to lapse into the most violent brogue that ever grew on the green sod of Ireland. This was accompanied with a wink