Hastily acquainting him with the treasures he had unexpectedly obtained, Thames returned to the room to apprize Winifred of his good fortune. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. Montague Hill. They are tending to congregate, our poor French friends. Slowly a mirthless and very unpleasant smile dawned upon his face.
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