" "Here you have it, my dear," returned the hawker. ” He made quite a long pause, and went on, with a sigh: “You have a voting paper given you—” They emerged into the publicity of the lawn. The hansom drove off. Armed, however, with the implement he had so fortunately obtained, he did not despair of success. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch. I spent this afternoon in detention. In the end, resolution triumphed, as it was sure to do, over the weaker emotions, and he laughed at his fears. He wasn't satisfied with an assured income from the paper-mills your grandfather left us.
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