On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. Treasure caves to explore! All through these trying days she had recurrently wondered what this strange young man would have to say that Dickens and Hugo had not already said. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans. But at the same time, I must say plainly that I think your presence here just now would be a great misfortune. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. "Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable.
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