Of course that was what she had to do; she had to find a cheap room for herself and work! This Room No. He was beginning to think about her inordinately. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. He understood now that it was a part of her inheritance. Her voice shook, her eyes were very soft and melting. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. Folding his arms, he placed his back against the door, and burst into a loud laugh. "Because—because I'm always distrustful of a priest," rejoined Jonathan. While the carpenter irresolutely quitted the room, with a strong presentiment of ill upon his mind, a light quick step was heard descending the stairs, and before he could call out to prevent it, a man was admitted into the passage. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. “Annabel,” she said brusquely. Alban's to-night.
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