I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. Arrived within a short distance of his destination, he came to a halt, and pointing out a dark court nearly opposite the woollen-draper's abode, told the chairmen to wait there till they were summoned. “You’ll get me to allude to it, but you’d have to torture me to admit it. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified.
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