The front door was open, and entering the oh, so familiar hall a sound of voices in my sitting-room on the right caught my ear.
"Oh no, Mrs.Brown," said one, which I recognised at once as my Polly's, "he is dead for certain, and my heart is breaking.

He would never, never have left me so long without writing if he had been alive," and then came a great sound of sobbing.
"Bless your kind heart, miss," said the voice of my landlady in reply, "but you don't know as much about young gentlemen as I do.

It is not likely, if he has gone off on the razzle-dazzle, as I am sure he has, he is going to write every post and tell you about it.

Now you go off to your ma at the hotel like a dear, and forget all about him till he comes back--that's MY advice." "I cannot, I cannot, Mrs.Brown.

I cannot rest by day or sleep by night for thinking of him; for wondering why he went away so suddenly, and for hungering for news of him.