On the orders of Mr Jarvis, that were. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. Wood had prevented him from paying much attention to the previous scene. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. I’m going up to London with the Widgetts to that ball.
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