He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. "Think not to deceive me, monster. Visible underneath his collar were some metal tags. "Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. ” And while he talked and watched her as he talked, she answered, and behind her listening watched and thought about him. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price. "I suppose he'll be on his feet any day now. She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. And now, a fair exchange, Sir.
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