For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. “The Miss Pellissier who was at White’s with us. Recollect that. "You must take it to Sir Rowland Trenchard's in Southampton Fields. ’ ‘Alas. “Let’s go home. “No, you didn’t. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense.
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