hum of conversation,
scented the fragrance from flower and perfumes that floated out, and
then called himself a miserable little beggar.

"Never mind," he said at last, lighting his pipe, and looking longingly
at one of the tall obelisks by the door of a neighbouring mansion, and
thinking what a capital perch it would make for him to sit and look on
from--"never mind, bless her, she'll snub them like fun."

He felt better then, and saw Sir Felix and Vanleigh go up the carpeted
steps without a pang. Ten times over he made up his mind to go and have
a quiet little tavern supper, and then to his chambers and read; but he
could not tear himself away; and so it was that he saw the arrival of
the uninvited guest, and in the confusion that ensued witnessed
something of what followed, standing aside to let Vanleigh come hurrying
out, holding his neglected wife by the hand, furious, and yet too
horror-stricken and remorseful to speak to her.

"A cab!" he shouted; and a minute after they entered, and the shabby
screw was whipped into a gallop, and going in the direction of
Pentonville.

Earlier in the evening Netta had seemed brighter, and had eaten heartily
of some fruit Richard had fetched for her from Covent Garden. She was
very weak, but she had begged to be dressed, and was lying upon the
little couch; while Mrs Jenkles, after helping, had gone down into the
kitchen, where Sam was sitting at his tea, to look at him very fixedly,
and then her face began to twitch and work.

"She aint worse, is she?" said Sam, in an awe-stricken whisper.

"Oh, Sam, Sam," sobbed the poor woman, bursting into tears; "and her so
young, too. It's very, very sad."

"I shan't go out to-night, then," said Sam, a little more hoarsely than
usual. "Ratty may have a holiday. It's a hill wind as blows nobody any
good. If I do go to have a smoke, old woman, I shall be standing across
the road in Mother Fiddison's doorway."

"Oh, Sam, it's very, very sad," sobbed Mrs Jenkles again; "and her so
young. If it had been her mother or me!"

"Stow that, old gal," said Sam, with a choke. "If there's e'er a woman
as can't be spared outer this here wicked world of pore cabmen and hard
fares, it's you. What'd become o' me?"

"Oh, Sam," sobbed Mrs Jenkles from inside her apron.

"I should go to the bad in a week, old gal. I should never pass a
corner public without dropping in; and at the end of six months there'd
be a procession o' cabs follerin