Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. "Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance. Very well, then. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous. The bridge was protected on either side by a railing with bannisters placed at wide intervals. Outside the door he turned and stared at the panels.
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