There she queened it, in the centre of the room--his patron saint, and Phoebe's.

He knew well what he owed her--and Phoebe should soon know.

He was in a hurry to be off; but he could not make up his mind--superstitiously--to put out the lights.

So, after lingering a few moments before her, in this tremor of imagination and of pleasure, he left her thus, radiant and haloed!--the patron saint in charge.
On his way out he found an anxious landlady upon his path.

Mrs.Gibbs was soon made happy, so far as promises could do it, and in another minute he was in a hansom speeding westward.