Please ..." "No--no--no," exclaimed Lavinia vehemently.

"We must part here.
Good-night." Vane was loth to let her hand go but she snatched it away and ran off, turning her head and throwing him a smile over her shoulder--a picture of natural grace and charming womanly wile and tenderness which dwelt in his memory for many a long day.
Vane stood watching the fleeting figure until it vanished in the obscurity of Ludgate Hill and then with a deep sigh turned towards Cheapside.
"That settles it.

I won't write a line for that rascal Curll.

I've promised my divinity and by God, I'll keep my promise." But the next instant came the dismal reflection that apart from Curll he hadn't the slightest notion where his next shilling was to come from.
"Tush! I won't think of the dolefuls," he muttered.

"'Tis an insult to the loveliest--the kindest--the warmest hearted--the ..." He suddenly ceased his panegyric and wheeled round swiftly, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Absorbed though he had been in his thoughts of Lavinia, in some sub-conscious way the sound of footsteps behind him keeping pace with his own reached his ear.