" "Your husband?" "No. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. "I had a terrible dream last night. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. This time there wasn't any doubt. ” “All right! And I never dreamed anything of the sort was going on. “Well, you certainly did very well at tea,” she remarked. "Don't fire," cried the latter. 1.
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