’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. . It's a thousand pities to hang so pretty a fellow. ” He fancied that she was yielding, but her eyes fell once more upon that fatal envelope, and her tone when she spoke was colder than ever. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price. He had conveyed it to her, not verbally, but by means of a letter, which seemed to her a singularly ignoble method of prohibition.
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