‘She would not tell me. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. The ladies were, as usual, very gaily dressed; and as usual, also, had resorted to art to heighten their attractions— From patches, justly placed, they borrow'd graces, And with vermilion lacquer'd o'er their faces. ” “I ought to have—all the same. “Will you come round to the hospital?” he asked. The order was promptly obeyed, and the horses proceeded at a furious pace along the Edgeware Road. She rolled to one side. “But I wanted to see you. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended.
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