" "I will go, if you will consent to meet me at midnight near the old house in Wych Street," replied Jack. Darting down Field-lane, Jack struck into a labyrinth of streets on the left; but though he ran as swiftly as he could, he was not unperceived. With a well-simulated unconcern and a heightened color she finished her breakfast. Plote was sleeping or deaf. Taking the wind was her business in life. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed.
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