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Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. Arrived at the extremity of the building, he found that it overlooked the flat-roof of a house which, as far as he could judge in the darkness, lay at a depth of about twenty feet below. "What's this here kinchen in for?" asked Terence, as he and Quilt strode along, with Thames between them. He was an imaginative young man. This incredible scene robbed him of the sense of locomotion. He was a stranger. "Troth, and so did you," returned the watchman; "but I couldn't belave it. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. “I am too much in earnest,” he answered, “to be able to take this matter lightly. ’ ‘I also said, if you remember, that I could not promise not to do so.
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