"From Mr. He would know her address to-morrow. Anna, you shall not go. You'll live to hate chicken; and the man in you will rise up and demand strong drink. ” He left at once, immensely relieved, yet scarcely satisfied with himself as regarded his share of the interview with this young woman. ‘Naturally I had to come,’ confirmed the lively blonde, her eyes twinkling up at Alderley. But, I'll expose him. She is called Madame Ibstock, you understand. But it's best to be on the safe side. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. He dropped the key on the counterpane. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber.
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