" The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. He might be unfortunate, but he would scarcely be a fool. . On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. It seemed to emanate from the back of the house. And Ritter’s, too, was very amusing and foreign and discreet; a little rambling room with a number of small tables, with red electric light shades and flowers. In this way he was able to force back a ponderous bolt from its socket; and to his unspeakable joy, found that the door instantly yielded. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you.
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