Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. "You can, of course, identify this picture as Lady Trafford's property?" pursued Jonathan, with a meaning glance, as he handed it to the knight. " "No; she accepts it," rejoined Jonathan, triumphantly. Who is the other?” “What other?” Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. I spied a small picture of them in your house, though. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. "Arundel Stairs," replied Wood, "the nearest point to Wych Street. " "Thank you! thank you!" faltered Jack, in a voice full of emotion.
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