She felt flattered. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery. 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. He found the door ajar, and, to his surprise, perceived little Winifred seated at a table, busily engaged in tracing some design upon a sheet of paper. You know the sort of thing. ” “And mine,” murmured his companion, with the smile still lingering upon his lips.
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