The room in which she sat was a portion of the garret, assigned, as we have just stated, by Mr. . She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. “You are very good,” she said. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. He had scarcely completed his toilet, when he was startled by a noise at the door, and heard his own name pronounced in no friendly accents. He was an officer, and a person of very great sense, and altogether a desirable parti. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared. I completed it according to the directions, you see, and it was a beautiful machine, a triangle sort of, with a steering column I built out of an old wheelbarrow and a hubcap. I thought I’d see Paris, do the thing—like a toff. “My hand! This isn’t the place. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning.
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