Our respective belongings were moved--and that is all.

Miss Racksole is at this moment, I trust, asleep in No.

124.' Theodore Racksole looked at the young man for a few seconds in silence.
There was a faint knock at the door.
'Come in,' said Racksole loudly.
Someone pushed open the door, but remained standing on the mat.

It was Nella's maid, in a dressing-gown.
'Miss Racksole's compliments, and a thousand excuses, but a book of hers was left on the mantelshelf in this room.

She cannot sleep, and wishes to read.' 'Mr Dimmock, I tender my apologies--my formal apologies,' said Racksole, when the girl had gone away with the book.