” He saw her into the train at Waterloo, and stood, a tall, grave figure, with hat upraised, as the carriage moved forward slowly and hid him. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Adieu!" And, snatching a hasty kiss, he darted after Jack. Meantime, a change had taken place in the weather.
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