. " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. Anna, who had thrown aside her sealskin coat, wore a tight-fitting walking dress of some dark shade. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. Ah! what's that?" he exclaimed, as some one brushed hastily past him. Kneebone's 346 XIV.
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