edly too, for I remarked she seemed
regardless of the weather, and carried no umbrella. Wearied out
completely by the monotony and dulness of the street, I next sank into
a doze, which destroyed one hour further towards dinner, and the
remnant of time I managed to dispose of by writing a large portion of
a long letter to my mother. My dinner was a tete-a-tete one with John
Sainsbury--his father having been called away to Margate on affairs
connected with the residents there. Finding myself labouring under a
cold, I avoided wine, and while my companion discussed his _Chateau
Margaut_, I kept up a languid conversation with him, enlivened
occasionally by the snap of a walnut-shell or indifferent pun, with
now and then an enquiry or remark respecting the street passengers.
Amongst those, the milk-vender and lady at the moment happened to pass
along--"By the by," I said, "there is one peculiarity about that Pair
I cannot help remarking. I observe, that wherever, or at whatever
pace, the man moves, his female companion always keeps at the one
exact distance behind him--about three yards or so--See, just as they
stand now at No. 46! I never perceive her approach nearer. She seems a
most assiduous wife."

"_Wife!_" rejoined Sainsbury, with a motion of the lip that might have
been a smile, but for the gravity of his other features--"she is not
his wife."

"Wife, or friend then," I said, correcting myself.

"She is not his friend either."

"Well, his sister or relative."

"Neither sister nor relative--in fact," he said, "I don't think she is
any thing to him."

"But the deuce is in it, man, you don't mean to say that she is not a
most devoted friend who thus so closely, and at all hours, it appears
to me, attends him and assists"----

"She does not assist him," again interrupted Sainsbury.

"I mean, shares his toil."

"She has no participation whatever in his business. Come," he said,
rising and advancing to the window, "I see you are puzzled; nor are
you the first who has been at fault respecting that extraordinary
Pair. Just observe them for a moment," and he threw up the sash to
afford me the means of glancing after them along the street; "you
perceive that there is not the slightest communication between them.
He has just stopped at that house, No. 50, and there stands the woman,
rigid as a statue, only three yards behind him; now he has done and
moves rapidly on--how exactly she follows! He stops again, and see,