For even as that great vessel plunged on her fierce way right into the heart of the gathering darkness, he was standing at the door of the lodging-house in the little street in Birmingham.
"Gone!" he was saying.

"Miss Smithers gone to New Zealand! What is her address ?" "She didn't leave no address, sir," replies the dirty maid-of-all-work with a grin.

"She went from here two days ago, and was going on to the ship in London." "What was the name of the ship ?" he asked, in despair.
"Kan--Kon--Conger-eel," replies the girl in triumph, and shuts the door in his face.
Poor Eustace! He had gone to London to try and get some employment, and having, after some difficulty, succeeded in obtaining a billet as reader in Latin, French and English to a publishing house of good repute, at a salary of L180 a year, he had hurried back to Birmingham for the sole purpose of seeing Miss Augusta Smithers, with whom, if the whole truth must be told, he had, to his credit be it said, fallen deeply, truly, and violently in love.

Indeed, so far was he in this way gone, that he had determined to make all the progress that he could, and if he thought that there was any prospect of success, to declare his passion.

This was, perhaps, a little premature; but then in these matters people are apt to be more premature than is generally supposed.