Traversing what remained of Wych Street at a rapid pace, and speeding along Drury Lane, the trio soon found themselves in Kendrick Yard. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. But I don’t suppose you can understand. He was speechless. A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. ” The man contented himself with a nod. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard. He was dressed with the utmost care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action were in some way a condescension. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer.
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