Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,—celebrated as one of Goldsmith's retreats,—he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan's habitation. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. " "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. ‘Wait! No time for that. I am going to take you entirely at your word. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. .
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