. S. "And now, shall we proceed to Queenhithe?" "Stay!" cried the other, taking a chair, "a word with you, Mr. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. " At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six. Opening the door, he found it littered with straw, on which he threw himself, and instantly fell asleep. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom.
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