For all the world like a runaway match, my dear--bar the bride.

He brought Mr.Archer in the chay with him.' 'Is that Holdaway ?' cried the landlord from the lighted entry, where he stood shading his eyes.
'Only me, sir,' answered Nance.
'O, you, Miss Nance,' he said.

'Well, come in quick, my pretty.

My lord is waiting for your uncle.' And he ushered Nance into a room cased with yellow wainscot and lighted by tall candles, where two gentlemen sat at a table finishing a bowl of punch.

One of these was stout, elderly, and irascible, with a face like a full moon, well dyed with liquor, thick tremulous lips, a short, purple hand, in which he brandished a long pipe, and an abrupt and gobbling utterance.