"Young, my dear, with beautiful dark brown hair, and a grand beard, and a sweet sorrowful look.

Ah, his eyes would tell anybody that his black clothes are not a mere sham.

Whether married or single, of course I can't say.
But I noticed the name on his travelling-bag.

A distinguished name in my opinion--Hugh Mountjoy.

I wonder what he'll order to drink when he has his dinner?
What a mercy it will be if we can get rid of another bottle of the sour French wine!" The bell in the private room rang at that moment; and the landlady's daughter, it is needless to say, took the opportunity of forming her own opinion of Mr.Hugh Mountjoy.
She returned with a letter in her hand, consumed by a vain longing for the advantages of gentle birth.