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"The key," replied the widow. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. Earles with composure into the inner room.
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