” She became aware of her aunt, through the panes of the greenhouse, advancing with an air of serene unconsciousness from among the raspberry canes. “You see,” he said, “it is doubtful if we can ever marry. Ann Veronica felt no repulsion at the prospect. "And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. At least, I hope so for his sake as well as my own," he added, mentally. ‘No, no, Jacques, you have done very right. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. There were white men with families, a fine mission-house, and a club-house for cards and billiards. The Frenchman had moved back into Piccadilly from Down Street, at which the lad following him had immediately sauntered away a yard or two.
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