“But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. His pulses beat fast as he walked, his feet fell lightly upon the pavement. And, stretching out his hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. To these she added the wine and spirits directed, and when all was arranged looked inquisitively at her master. . They do not come for me, to find me and bring me home. Besides, I'm afraid her simple honesty will spoil any invented yarn. “Hill has asked for you, and they will take his depositions to-night. He’s been 274 lookin’ a little down lately. On the other a wretched engraving of the Chevalier de Saint George, or, as he was styled in the label attached to the portrait, James the Third, raised a suspicion that the inmate of the house was not altogether free from some tincture of Jacobitism. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. Against the walls hung an assortment of staves, brown-bills, (weapons then borne by the watch,) muskets, handcuffs, great-coats, and lanterns.
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