"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. Springing upon the box, he told the coachman to make the best of his way to Saint Giles's. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. She was inclined to think that perhaps for a girl the converse of his method was the case; an older man, a man beyond the range of anything “nonsensical,” was, perhaps, the most interesting sort of friend one could meet. "Vot are you?" "Practising patience," growled Abraham. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. . . I saw her come out from the flat buildings two minutes before we entered it last night. ‘The place was full of barbers and military men. Jack was so harrassed that he felt half inclined to stand at bay. ‘That I do not yet know. Bullding is going to.
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