"No, I shan't," replied Rachel, saucily. \"Where are you going?\" She cried. Spurlock halted in his tracks. "Perhaps you don't know that this Darrell so contrived matters, that your child should be mistaken for his own; by which means it had a narrow escape from a tight cravat, I can assure you. You will do as I say, or—’ ‘Hoy!’ called Trodger from down the hall. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. He filled his pipe slowly. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. ‘It is London’s loss, ma’am. Nothing ensued.
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