“I love some one else. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. In lieu of the substantial habitations which he had gazed on overnight, he beheld a row of falling scaffoldings, for such they seemed. “Wow, congratulations, Martin. There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano.
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