" "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. They drove rapidly through the emptying streets. I don’t quite know why. Martin's on Ludgate-hill, and Christchurch in Newgate Street, were also distinguishable. Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. Old pupil. She had seen a man’s head steal out for a moment and draw the curtains a little closer. He’s riding down the drive.
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