Clearing the few impediments in his way, he soon reached the condemned pew, where it had once been his fate to sit; and extending himself on the seat endeavoured to snatch a moment's repose. " "Hold!" interposed Winifred, gravely. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. “Thank you. \" he replied, though it was obvious that he was lying. She would not let her move. Her bonnet dropped off and was trampled into the gutter. Whoever chose to incur the risk of so doing might enter the Mint at any hour; but no one was suffered to depart without giving a satisfactory account of himself, or producing a pass from the Master. His head turned sideways towards the noise, his brows scowling. A sinister thought edged in. . No mother would have sent her daughter into the world with such a wardrobe. He stood on the top step for a moment, lost in deep thought.
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