Mr. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. Then she cursed herself for his eyes went to the letter and came back to her face. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. I hope that you can find an escape in Forever Fifteen.
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