The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. “MY DEAR VERONICA,—Your aunt tells me you have involved yourself in some arrangement with the Widgett girls about a Fancy Dress Ball in London. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. Here are their letters. She had never said anything so horrible to anyone in her life. ” The three men, who had arrived within a minute or two of one another, received her little speech in dead silence. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. A little love from him would be enough. Wasting no time, he crossed straight to the shutters and opened them. "The gen'l'man'll be here directly.
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