‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. The girl’s eyes never left his face. I’m a little tired. There's one person in the house whom I wouldn't frighten for the world. His business has thriven; legacies have unexpectedly dropped into his lap; and, to crown all, he has made a large fortune by a lucky speculation in South-Sea stock,—made it, too, where so many others have lost fortunes, your humble servant amongst the number—ha! ha! In a word, Sir, Mr. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth. He would have to make sure of her silence. Smith's solitary orb followed in the same direction.
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