“Eight, Cavendish Square. "Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. " "You're a noble-hearted little fellow, Thames," rejoined Wood, casting a look of pride and affection at his adopted son, whose head he gently patted; "and give promise of a glorious manhood. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. “When you married me——” Her little hand flashed out across the table. Traversing what remained of Wych Street at a rapid pace, and speeding along Drury Lane, the trio soon found themselves in Kendrick Yard. Hollo rumbled in his throat.
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