"Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. Every home is a little recess, a niche, out of the world of business and competition, in which women and the future shelter. She had tried him as a Crusader, in which guise he seemed plausible but heavy—“There IS something heavy about him; I wonder if it’s his mustache?”—and as a Hussar, which made him preposterous, and as a Black Brunswicker, which was better, and as an Arab sheik. She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. "Are you his ghost, then?" "No—no," answered Jack. ” Courtlaw seemed about to say something. " "Never fear," replied Thames, taking up his hat. Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel’s visit still fresh in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room.
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