Brendon suggests supper at the Carlton. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. Ladders, paviour's rams, sledge-hammers, and other destructive implements were procured, and, in all probability, their purpose would have been effected, but for the opportune arrival of a detachment of the guards, who dispersed them, not without some loss of life. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. “I shall probably want you to come down to the ‘Unusual’ to-morrow morning,” he said.
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