’ Saling coughed. “Is this hansom for me?” she said. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose. He stood still, almost breathless. "I'm armed; you are not. " Aware apparently in some degree, of the mistake she had committed, the poor maniac sprang towards him with frantic violence, and planted her long nails in his cheek. Our quarrel's quite over. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn.
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