"Do you really mean that?" he cried, joyfully.

"Yes, if nothing happens to prevent me. Good-bye for a while."

She waved her hand. He caught the tips of her fingers and kissed them.
One bright smile in response and she was gone.

With her heart fluttering strangely--a fluttering that Dorrimore had
never been able to inspire--Lavinia flew down the staircase and sped
through the streets in the direction of London Bridge.




CHAPTER VIII

"YOU'VE A MIGHTY COAXING TONGUE"


The shop on London Bridge of Dr. Mountchance, apothecary, astrologer,
dealer in curios and sometimes money lender and usurer, was in its way
picturesque and quaint, but to most tastes would scarcely be called
inviting. Bottles of all shapes and sizes loaded the shelves, mingled
with jars and vases from China, Delft ware from Holland and plates and
dishes from France, which Dr. Mountchance swore were the handiwork of
Palissy, the famous artist-potter. Everything had a thick coating of
dust. Dried skins of birds, animals and hideous reptiles hung from the
walls and ceiling; a couple of skulls grinned mockingly above a doorway
leading into a little room at the rear, and it was difficult to steer
one's way between the old furniture, the iron bound coffers and