Here's the——" "Let me have one," cried a servant maid, running across the street, and in her haste forgetting to shut the door,—"here's the money. ’ Her features broke apart in a laugh. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. We leave this room together. . He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. “Don’t!” she begged.
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