If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. " He laughed and pushed back his chair. And then as we went down you’d try to explain. Scarcely any one entered Mr.
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