The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. ‘But a spy I am not. You would do best not to admit to such things either after becoming a vampire. And I am coming to believe the best as well as the most beautiful friends a man can have are girl friends. Keep up the clamour for five minutes, and I'll finish it. On the present occasion, in anticipation of Mr. Wood had prevented him from paying much attention to the previous scene.
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