Meanwhile, the combat between Kneebone and Mrs. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. Turning, she heaved at the bottom door and slammed it in his face just as he came leaping forward to grab her. ’ ‘Yes, but in fact you’ve offered me far more entertainment than any French spy could have done. ” “It’s impossible. My garden-close would be a better thing than that.
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