I thanked him heartily for his aid as I took my leave.
"You may have helped to put a good lump of money in my pocket, Mr.
Sparsfield," I said; "and if you have, I'll get my picture taken, if it's only for the pleasure of bringing it here to be framed." With this valedictory address I left my simple citizens of Barbican.

My heart was very light as I wended my way across those metropolitan wilds that lay between Barbican and Omega-street.

I am ashamed of myself when I remember the foolish cause of this elation of mind.

I was going to Yorkshire, the county of which my Charlotte was now an inhabitant.

My Charlotte! It is a pleasure even to write that delicious possessive pronoun--the pleasure of poor Alnascher, the crockery-seller, dreaming his day-dream in the eastern market-place.
Can any one know better than I that I shall be no nearer Charlotte Halliday in Yorkshire than I am in London?
No one.