"Your business, Sir?" returned the other, stiffly. Kneebone, who had drained his glass to the restoration of the house of Stuart, and the downfall of the house of Hanover, more frequently than was consistent with prudence, consented; and the trio set out for Wych Street, where they arrived in the jolliest humour possible. He meets Anna, and claims her as his wife. Husbands and wives, young lovers, and mothers with strollers thronged in the streets, all savoring the fine cool weather. When the doctor came in—he had just finished his breakfast—O'Higgins rose and presented his card. Why not? Were not his own sentiments inclined in favour of the patient? But fifty gold was fifty gold.
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