’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. She came to her one day and pulled on her apron. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. "How is Mr. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. A few seconds sufficed to clear the passage, through which it had previously cost him more than two hours to force his way. "Within the last few minutes, all my guilty life has passed before me.
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