"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. ’ He bowed. “You see, her sister is married to Ferringhall, isn’t she? and she herself must be drawing no end of a good screw here. "Be ruled by me," returned Thames. “Do you believe me now?” She asked. But one could not count with any confidence upon Capes. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue.
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