The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. Wood, reproachfully, as they returned to the parlour. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. ‘But it is entirely natural that I choose my own country. " "Company!" echoed Rachel; "at this time of night?" "Company, child," repeated Kneebone.
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