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. I can’t forget about your sister. " "Then it was not a dream!" ejaculated Sir Rowland in a hollow voice, and as if speaking to himself. How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her.
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