And you--' 'No.

I shall stay where I am.' 'Well, I wish you good-night, dear Devereux.' 'Good-night, Puddock' And the plump little fellow was heard skipping down stairs, and the hall-door shut behind him.

Devereux took the play that Puddock had just laid down, and read for a while with a dreary kind of interest.

Then he got up, and, I'm sorry to say, drank another glass of the same strong waters.
'To-morrow I turn over a new leaf;' and he caught himself repeating Puddock's snatch of Macbeth, 'To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow.' Devereux looked out, leaning on the window-sash.

All was quiet now, as if the rattle of a carriage had never disturbed the serene cold night.
The town had gone to bed, and you could hear the sigh of the river across the field.