The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. He hoped he would get to see the two suitors face off over Lucy. On one side of the handbill a print of the reigning sovereign, Anne, had been pinned over the portrait of William the Third, whose aquiline nose, keen eyes, and luxuriant wig, were just visible above the diadem of the queen. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. Breakfast, too, was an impossible occasion. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand. “Let me introduce my friend to you,” Courtlaw said. ” “You know all?” “Your sister has told me. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze.
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