” She rang the bell, and he waited by her side until she was admitted to the tall, gloomy lodging-house. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. “You need have no further trouble. So, not exactly hopefully but earnestly, she returned to the feet of God. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. ‘Do you think it is the man in the moon that I mean? What is it that Gérard has told you?’ ‘That you need help. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence.
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