"Mrs. Roberts?--I suppose the very handsome young lady I saw come into
the house. No offence, ma'am; but a man's bound to be careful where he
brings his wife. I suppose she's all right."

"Lord, yes, poor dear!" answered Mrs. Jacobs, in indignation; "why,
they came here straight from St. Jude's, Battersea, the day they were
married; a runaway match, I fancy."

"That's all right; she looked charming. I hope her husband is worthy
of her," remarked George, as he gazed round Mrs. Jacobs' rooms.

"Well, as to that, he's handsome enough, for them as likes those black
men; but I don't like people as only comes to visit their lawful wives
about twice a month. But," suddenly checking herself, "it isn't any
affair of mine."

"No, indeed, very reprehensible: I am, as a married man, entirely of
your mind. These are charming rooms, ma'am, charming. I shall
certainly take them if my wife approves; I will let you know by
to-morrow's post--Jacobs, yes, I have it down. Good evening, ma'am,"
and he was gone.

Instead of going out that evening as he had intended, George sat in
the smoking-room of his hotel and thought. He also wrote a letter
which he addressed to Mrs. Bellamy.

Next morning, taking a cab, he drove to St. Jude's, Battersea, and
inspected the register.