" "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. I am Lucilla Froxfield, you must know. Glancing around his prison, he began to think it possible he might effect an escape from it. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. . ” She said. She had never heard anything so unholy. I'd a good many things to say to you, besides—but you've put them all out of my head. People were passing in the street below. “Will you come this way,” she said, “into the drawing-room? There is no one there just now.
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