“We have a small studio,” she murmured, “in the Rue de St. Let us proceed with our tale. " At this juncture, two women, very smartly attired in silk hoods and cloaks, appeared at the door of the Lodge. ‘Don’t put me at the necessity of marrying the abominable little wretch. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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