\"Today's Friday, isn't it?\" Lucy remembered. ‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack. A sudden knock at the door startled her. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair. Notwithstanding the heat of the season,—which was not, however, found particularly inconvenient in this subterranean region,—a large heaped-up fire blazed ruddily in one corner, and lighted up a circle of as villanous countenances as ever flame shone upon. What the editor had to say none of the three cared just then. “Am I dull?” she said. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence.
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