The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. Beneath two tall elms, whose boughs completely overshadowed the roof, stood Mr. Katy oozed money from every pore of her being. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. “Too bad to keep you waiting,” Annabel exclaimed. They did not want her. We leave England to-night.
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