Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. “I can’t. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. . Wood having disposed of the brandy, and pronounced himself much better, hurried close to the fire-side, and informed his friend in a few words of the inhospitable treatment he had experienced from the gentlemen of the Mint; whereupon Mr. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. Teenage boys never change, she thought to herself. It must be the dawn creeping in. I am the richest man in the world.
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