Mrs. Afterward she wanted to get her letter to her father back in order to read it over again, and, if it tallied with her general impression of it, re-write it. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. She saw his face change, how he regretted. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. “Oh, you can act!” she cried. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied. I jumped then—I was not even shaken. “I’ll be hanged if I do. A radiant smile astonished him. Another instance was that of Toby Tanner—" "No more of this," interrupted Trenchard; "where is the boy?" "Not far hence," replied Wild. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same.
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