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“MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. " "And so Sir Rowland murdered his friend," remarked Wood. For Mr Jarvis was beside himself when the letter come from Mr Charvill and he knew he’d lost you as well as Miss Mary. In mailing the tales he had not enclosed return postage or the equivalent in money. He shrugged and, to Gerald’s relief, made to leave at last. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. ’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. " The woollen-draper's application to the bell was answered by a very pretty young woman, with dark Jewish features, roguish black eyes, sleek glossy hair, a trim waist, and a remarkably neat figure: the very model, in short, of a bachelor's housekeeper. Wood was once a favourite of yours. The doll she had never owned, the cat and the dog that had never been hers: here they were, strangely incorporated in this sleeping man. William Kneebone was a woollen-draper of "credit and renown," whose place of business was held at the sign of the Angel (for, in those days, every shop had its sign), opposite Saint Clement's church in the Strand. Here were the passionate lovers! What their past had been he neither cared nor craved to know. Forgive my daring.

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