"Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons? Not I. She wanted to come, and I wouldn't let her. On a sudden, a change came over her countenance, which, up to this moment, had worn a smiling and satisfied expression. She looked at him mournfully. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. Now, he must have folks somewhere.
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