The Chief's Deity, a Silly Little Ass

Pile picked his footing carefully on the snowy steps, but I don't believe it's very good cricket for us to analyze his family affairs. She wasn't behaving much like a deity, unless Bacchus, perhaps, last time I saw her. Where was that? At the Tulleries, about a month ago, with a party of eight or ten noisy roisters in the general custody of that good for nothing young Merrick. You know, old Nick Merrick's carousing grandson. Believe me, they were well oiled. Did you, did she recognize you? Oh, quite so, came fluttering over to our table to speak to me. Hum, she must