“Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. ‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. The Night-Cellar XVIII. Wood," added she in a hollow voice, and with a ghastly look, "gin may bring ruin; but as long as poverty, vice, and ill-usage exist, it will be drunk. Somewhat alarmed at his appearance, Thames laid his hand upon his sword. Austin," continued the tapstress; "he's only going on an errand.
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