‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. Hastening in the direction of the sound, he discovered Thames Darrell, stretched upon the ground. Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher.
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