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If only to say goodbye. Mr. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. 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. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. ‘Well, only look what’s come of it. "Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand. "I'm afraid I must decline to tell you.
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