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" "I tell 'ee what, landlord," observed the old sailor, quietly replenishing his pipe from a huge pewter tobacco-box, as the waterman and Wood quitted the house, "you've said good-b'ye to your friend. ‘You won’t get a thing out of her. “And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. You’ll have to find someone else. “I don’t know. . "You have," rejoined Jonathan, laying a forcible grasp on his shoulder. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. It is of no use. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. ” She laughed softly. It might be supposed that these articles, when thrust together into the bag, would have jingled; but these skilful practitioners managed matters so well that no noise was made. She approached this field with her usual liveliness of apprehension.

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