She could not realize what she saw. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a very scanty lunch. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. He was waiting in the outer hall as she tiptoed in.
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