She felt sickeningly empty. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt. They're only just gone, mercy on us! what a clatter," she added, as the knocking was repeated more violently than before. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. Amid this tumult, several men armed with tremendous bludgeons, with their faces besmeared with grease and soot, and otherwise disguised, were observed to be urging the populace to attempt a rescue. You are to make for that and get into the lobby if you can, and so try and reach the floor of the House, crying ‘Votes for Women!’ as you go. "My little fancy man's quite as fond of me as of you, Bess. Then came the shock of the knowledge that soon he would be going upon his way, that there would be no one to depend upon her; and all the old loneliness came smothering down upon her again.
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