\"I could eat now. ” “Don’t imperil my reputation before I am established,” she answered, smiling. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. Her aunt went off at a tangent. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. He was an outside broker and the proprietor of a financial newspaper; he had come up very rapidly in the last few years, and Mr. "Weigh anchor, Van!" he shouted to the skipper, "and consult your despatches. Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,—celebrated as one of Goldsmith's retreats,—he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan's habitation.
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