“What’s wrong?” He asked as she shifted awkwardly. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. The passage was so narrow that there was only sufficient room for the cart to pass, with a single line of foot-soldiers on one side; and, as the walls of the bridge were covered with spectators, it was not deemed prudent to cross it till these persons were dislodged. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. “Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. She discovered him sitting upon the floor beside his open trunk.
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