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I have been imaging—” “Mr. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam. But of what use to wear it when there was no one of importance to see and admire? ‘For shame, Melusine,’ protested Lucy, as the butler bowed himself out of the room. “Mr. "Sold a good many, though. “Yes, I know. He did it, he said, “to distract his mind. And they never talked of anything at all, never discussed, never even encouraged gossip. It makes wonderful sentences that you can repeat in the City and are good enough for Punch. Then Valade—was the man as big a fool as Nicholas?—tried again. Then the inner door opened abruptly. It was hot and dry. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. "Somebody ought to get hold of that young man," said Prudence, grimly, as she nodded in Spurlock's direction.
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