Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,—celebrated as one of Goldsmith's retreats,—he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan's habitation. A florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly. The theme was a masquerade. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. “Glad to see you in London. ‘Do not imagine that I will leave poor Jacques. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. “You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging. ‘Now I see that you are mad indeed.
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