They stood back together and stared at it. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. The latter seemed inclined to advance and address the former; but suddenly changing his mind, he shouted to his companion in tones familiar to the stranger's ear; and, striking spurs into his steed, dashed off at full speed along the Edgeware Road. Everything was done in a genteel and ordinary way, but on the other hand, there was no lingering. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. .
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