The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. Urging his steed along Oxford Road,— as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution. “Look here, daddy,” she said, in a tone of great reasonableness, “I MUST go to that dance, you know. I would be too 222 busy protecting you. "I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he remarked. ” “Why not?” “You see, if I do go home my father objects to the College, and as for typing —” “Don’t go home. "What will you do?" asked Thames. I followed, taking up hunting so that way I could track you, to make sure you would become well again.
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