You've got town disease, street-malaria, lodging-house fever.' 'By Jove, I'll think of it,' replied the other, with a strange look of eagerness.

'But I don't know whether I can.

No, I can't be sure.

But I'll try.' 'What holds you ?' 'Well, I like to be near, you know, to _her_.

And then--all sorts of difficulties----' Morphew had his lodgings at present in a street near Chelsea Hospital, a poor-looking place, much inferior to those in which Rolfe had formerly seen him.