"No prize shall indushe me to enter dat horrid plashe again. “Did she? I’m sorry, Mike. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. " Not a little perplexed by the mysterious object she had seen, Rachel left the room, and, shortly afterwards returned with the materials of a tolerably good supper;—to wit, a couple of cold fowls, a tongue, the best part of a sirloin of beef, a jar of pickles, and two small dishes of pastry. I don’t care what divides us. This unexpected interpolation might spoil the efficacy of all that had gone before. But no; she must step warily.
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