By this time, the procession had reached the west end of the wall of St. “Non. As he approached the gable of Mrs. ‘Not in the open street. "Where is he?" asked Jonathan. Her unnatural calm was giving way. Don't be afraid, man,—off with it. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all.
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