” “Do you?” “We were great friends at school. He subjected me there to great annoyance by claiming me as his wife. There was a case, or something, some years ago. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door. He looked at her guiltily. Aroused by the sound of the church bells, he resolved, at whatever risk, to attend Divine service. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances.
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