"Thank you, sir," said Spurlock, holding out his hand. The coolies proceeded at a swinging, mincing trot, which gave to the suspended seat a dancing action similar to that of a suddenly agitated hangingspring of a birdcage. "There, Sir," she added, unlocking the door, "you can go in. ‘Still, the comtesse has them well in hand. “You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair.
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