The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not. " "But wasn't I right? That pair?" "I'll take the boy; he'll be a novelty. And when there is no longer any need to use it, why then, enough you say—and throw it away.
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