tell his love-story in a walk limited to six steps?

"Perhaps we might go out into the street?" he suggested.

"Certainly, my lord," said the Quaker. "Tribbledale, should any one
call before I return, and be unable to wait for five minutes, I shall
be found outside the court, not above fifty yards either to the right
or to the left." Hampstead, thus limited to a course not exceeding a
hundred yards in one of the most crowded thoroughfares of the City,
began the execution of his difficult task.

"Mr. Fay," he said, "are you aware of what has passed between me and
your daughter Marion?"

"Hardly, my lord."

"Has she told you nothing of it?"

"Yea, my lord; she has in truth told me much. She has told me no
doubt all that it behoves a father to hear from a daughter in such
circumstances. I live on such terms with my Marion that there are not
many secrets kept by either of us from the other."

"Then you do know?"

"I know that your lordship tendered to her your hand,--honestly,
nobly, and truly, as I take it."

"With perfect honesty and perfect truth most certainly."

"And I know also that she declined the honour thus offered her."

"She did."

"Is this you, Zachary? How are you this morning?" This came from a
stout, short, red-faced man, who stopped them, standing in the middle
of the pavement.

"Well, I thank thee, Mr. Gruby. At this moment I am particularly
engaged. That is Jonathan Gruby," said the Quaker to his companion as
soon as the stout man had walked on; "one of the busiest men in the
City. You have heard probably of Gruby and Inderwald."

Hampstead had never heard of Gruby and Inderwald, and wished that the
stout man had been minding his business at that moment. "But as to
Miss Fay," he said, endeavouring to continue to tell his love-story.

"Yes, as to Marion. I hardly do know what passed between you two, not
having heard the reasons she gave thee."

"No reasons at all;--nothing worth speaking of between persons who
know anything of the world."

"Did she tell thee that she did not love thee, my lord?--because that
to my thinking would be reason enough."

"Nothing of the kind. I don't mean to boast, but I don't see why she
should not like me well enough."

"Nor in sooth do I either."

"What, Zachary; you walking about at this busy time of the day?"

"I am walking about, Sir Thomas. It is not customary with me, but
I am walking about." Then he turned on his heel, moved almost to
dudgeo