Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,—celebrated as one of Goldsmith's retreats,—he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan's habitation. Wood was once a favourite of yours. “Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal. The whole incident was so unexpected that neither Courtlaw nor Brendon were awaiting. “How ridiculous! Fancy you with all that money! For heaven’s sake, though, do not go about playing the Don Quixote like this. You deal with her. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo.
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