Will you let your servant call me a hansom,” she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side. His long struggle with himself, his avoidance of her were quite unnecessary. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. It was open. She felt he would tell people the way, control traffic, and refuse admission to public buildings with invincible correctness and the very finest explicit feelings possible.
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