It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own. Wood a very free-and-easy sort of stare, winked at Mr. Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. All this was exciting and entertaining. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. Why should she? she asked rebelliously. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed.
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