She is called Madame Ibstock, you understand. "Can't you take me with you?" urged the voice; "I'll make it well worth your while. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. "Besides, lad, even an advertisement of a cough-drop is something to read. If the boy was legging it alone…. I mystify you; I can see that. Some day I may forgive you; but not now.
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