It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. “I came to London unexpectedly, and my friends could not take me in. Burn your palette and your easel. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. Emerging from this aperture, he was about to descend, when he was alarmed by hearing the tramp of horses' feet swiftly approaching, and had only time to hide himself behind one of the largest signboards before alluded to when two horsemen rode up. You’re neither of you any longer under arrest. ’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily.
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