Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. I shall never come back. I've some other things inside, Sir, which you might wish to buy,—some pistols. Wood's famous 'prentice?" "What apprentice?" asked the stranger, in surprise. “No,” she answered, reluctantly. The thing rankled in her mind night and day. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table.
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