Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. " "Come, Sir!" thundered the latter, "no trifling! Perhaps," he added, opening a warrant, "you'll obey this mandate?" "A warrant!" ejaculated Kneebone, starting to his feet. “Is Lady Lescelles in?” he asked the butler. Man or woman. Teenage boys never change, she thought to herself. .
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