Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. "Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent. And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. 1. . 9. Then she sang. To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place. You’ll end there one day, mark my words. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. She met him by the dugout after the game. "Won't be under an obligation. He started a dozen stories, but they all ended in the waste-basket. "'It was all perfectly legal? "My word for it.
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