“Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!" "Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. " "You had better write them for me, Mr. But she must not laugh. Austin," continued the tapstress; "he's only going on an errand. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well.
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