“Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. "I can't tell you!" she replied, blushing deeply, and clinching her little hand as tightly as possible; "it's a secret!" "I'll soon find it out, then," he returned, playfully forcing the paper from her grasp. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. ” He stated matter-of-factly. “Come on. But why this part of the plan now seemed to her quite unattractive was a question she did not care to examine too closely.
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