. ’ ‘Oui, mais—safe. His figure was tall and commanding, and the expression of his countenance (though somewhat disturbed by his recent exertion) was resolute and stern. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. I knew where I would go next: Florence. Her heart's in the right place, at all events; and, since that's the case, the rest may perhaps come round, —that is, if she gets through her present illness.
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