The night was now profoundly dark. Every moment. It was the first—and the last! At this juncture, the handle of the door was tried, and the voice of Mr. “I think,” she said, “that I will tell you everything. “Lucy, my brother is home and I borrowed the cash from him. . . ” He paused, and went on, after a keen look at her: “I had rather gossip to a really intelligent girl than to any man alive. I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. F. We had no idea. I often wonder why the young always take us ancients for nambypamby creatures.
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