She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course. Rhea went down, screeching and clawing at the air for the sword, which clanked heavily on the ground. I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine.
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