I shall barely be in time for the theatre. . At one time, she determined to go to Wych Street, and ask Mr. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast.
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