On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. "No," replied Jack. Perhaps there were experiences she would never confide to any man. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. It was all highly intriguing. A constant attendant at court, he had the mortification to see every one promoted but himself, and thus bewails his ill-luck. What's this?" he added, stooping to pick up a piece of paper lying at his feet—it was Jonathan's memorandum.
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