“God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. Its parents have perished. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. The teacher droned on and on about the mournful funerary love of Romeo and Juliet, a tale she had long since tired of. "By the powers!" he added, turning his lantern full upon the face of the captive, "he's a nice gennteel-lookin' kiddy, I must say. “The fool I have been!” he cried; and now speech was coming to him. ‘And so?’ she asked. "What for?" demanded Wood. Of course. “You may find in it a paragraph of some interest to you. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. “I changed my last shilling yesterday.
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