ceivable from a tall, bearded man, well-dressed and well to do in the world. Perhaps he would speak in the same way to-night; the thought of it made her regardless of the cold rain that was drenching her miserable garment, of the wind that now and then, as she turned a corner, took away her breath and made her cease from running.
She reached St. John's Square, and paused at length by a door on which was the inscription: "H. Lewis, Working Jeweller." It was just possible that the men had already left; she waited for several minutes with anxious mind. No; the door opened and two workmen came forth. Jane's eagerness impelled her to address one of them.
"Please, sir, Mr. Kirkwood hasn't gone yet, has he?"
"No, he ain't," the man answered pleasantly; and turning back, he called to some one within the doorway: "Hollo, Sidney! here's your sweetheart waiting for you."
Jane shrank aside; but in a moment she
