"Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. You were dying and your baby along with you. "England or France, London or Paris, it's all one to me, so I've you to command me. Very romantic and all that. I've come all these miles for this young fellow; but I don't cotton to the idea of lallygagging four weeks in this burg. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. Here are all our harlequins and columbines of the spoken and written drama. It was really very nice of you, but to-morrow you will laugh at it as I do now. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. " So saying, he unlocked the door and strode out of the room. On this elevation a table was now placed, around which sat the turnkeys and their guests, regaling themselves on the fragrant beverage provided by the prisoner.
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