By the by, my dear, I forgot to ask your name—perhaps you'll oblige me with it now? Hell and the devil!—gone!" He looked around in vain. Someone was coming out of the house. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. Many of the soldiers dismounted, and called for drink. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. A florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly.
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