As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. "Your voice seems familiar to me—and—but I'm getting a little deaf—and my eyes don't serve me quite so well as they used to do, especially by this light. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. Anna was suddenly very quiet. A neat tale, giving little away. I keep it for my own drinking," he added in a lower tone. Then, in a few years, he and Ruth might fare forth in comfort and security.
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