"Off!" she cried with a prolonged and piercing shriek. The shouts drew nearer, and lights were seen flashing ruddily against the sides and gables of the neighbouring houses. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. Lovers' confidences should be respected.
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