Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. Ireton is welcome to search every room in my house if he pleases," said Jonathan, in a tone of bravado. We’ll make short work of them. May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. “YOU had to come in.
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