“I hope you are going to Carey House. What can she have done to deserve such a fate? Oh!” They both turned round at Anna’s exclamation. McClintock, coming from below, saw them and went forward. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. Then she stood up and looked around the room. O'Higgins did not confide in me. "Leave me alone with him a moment," said Jonathan. She laughed. ” Her heart had warmed toward him. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. .
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