The G. Creeping stealthily up stairs, unmasking a dark lantern, and glancing into each room as he passed, he was startled in one of them by the appearance of Mrs. ” He said wistfully. He was all alone, like herself. ’ The fellow seized on this. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. .
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