Now lend me your own hand. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. We never supposed you helped yourself to a picture set with diamonds—not we!" "Is the guv'ner consarned in this job?" asked Terence, in a whisper. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie—the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel. " "I'll not go," answered the other. This was done, and Austin returned with a crest-fallen look to the table. She did this to please him. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness.
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