I was sitting up, lamenting your departure, dear Thames, when, hearing an odd noise, I went to the landing, and, by the light of a dark lantern, saw Jack Sheppard, stealing up stairs, followed by two men with crape on their faces. He started a dozen stories, but they all ended in the waste-basket. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. She leaves town to-morrow. And now I break the seals—for you. As soon as he became convalescent, and all fears of his premature dissolution were at an end, Wild recommenced his rigorous treatment. "Constance is yet living. She meditated profoundly through several enormous cold hours on all that had happened and all that she had done since the swirl of the suffrage movement had submerged her personal affairs. But with returning breath came returning vociferations; and the carpenter, with a faint hope of lessening the clamour by change of scene, took up his lantern, opened the door, and walked out. That is how I learned that there were such things as novels.
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