"Why did you not kneel to me before?"

She struck a Nameless Fear into Leander's Soul

Her Hands were Unsteady with Passion as she tied her Bonnet-strings

Leander went down on All Fours on the Hearth-rug

"Stop where you are!... for Mercy's Sake, don't come in!"

"Leander!" she cried, ... "I don't believe she can do it!"

He threw himself down by her Chair, and drew down the Hands in which she had hidden her Face

[Pg 12]

[Pg 11]

[Pg 10]

[Pg 9]

IN PURSUIT OF PLEASURE

I.

 "Ther hopped Hawkyn, Ther daunsed Dawkyn, Ther trumped Tomkyn...."  The Tournament of Tottenham. 

"Ther hopped Hawkyn,

Ther daunsed Dawkyn,

Ther trumped Tomkyn...."

The Tournament of Tottenham.

In Southampton Row, Bloomsbury, there is a small alley or passage leading into Queen Square, and rendered inaccessible to all but foot passengers by some iron posts. The shops in this passage are of a subdued exterior, and are overshadowed by a dingy old edifice dedicated to St. George the Martyr, which seems to have begun its existence as a rather handsome chapel, and to have improved itself, by a sort of evolution, into a singularly ugly church.

 Prev. P 4/161 next