Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town. ’ A peal of laughter came from the girl. It is really amusing. "O, lud!" she cried; "French noblemen in disguise! and so rude as I was! I shall never recover it!" "A good supper will set all to rights," insinuated Kneebone. ’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. “Stop!” He ran towards her. A physiognomist, indeed, would have likened him to that crafty animal, and it must be owned the general formation of his features favoured such a comparison.
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