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"Of course, it has been kept for you."

"Thank ye, my dear. The precious child is safe in bed?"

"And sleeping soundly."

"That's right; all safe and well! I don't know why anything

should be otherwise than safe and well here, thank God; but I

have been so put out all day, and I am not as young as I was! My

tea, my dear! Thank ye. Now, come and take your place in the

circle, and let us sit quiet, and hear the echoes about which you

have your theory."

"Not a theory; it was a fancy."

"A fancy, then, my wise pet," said Mr. Lorry, patting her hand.

"They are very numerous and very loud, though, are they not? Only

hear them!"

Headlong, mad, and dangerous footsteps to force their way into

anybody's life, footsteps not easily made clean again if once

stained red, the footsteps raging in Saint Antoine afar off, as

the little circle sat in the dark London window.