For which reason, with a sinking heart and with that hang-dog sense of guilt upon him which dread and watching enfolded in the Sol's Arms have produced, the young man of the name of Guppy presents himself at the town mansion at about seven o'clock in the evening and requests to see her ladyship. Mercury replies that she is going out to dinner; don't he see the carriage at the door? Yes, he does see the carriage at the door; but he wants to see my Lady too.
Mercury is disposed, as he will presently declare to a fellow-gentleman in waiting, "to pitch into the young man"; but his instructions are positive. Therefore he sulkily supposes that the young man must come up into the library. There he leaves the young man in a large room, not over-light, while he makes report of him.
Mr. Guppy looks into the shade in all directions, discovering everywhere a certain charred and whitened little heap of coal or wood. Presently he hears a rustling. Is it--? No, it's no ghost, but fair flesh and blood, most brilliantly dressed.

So, with a sinking heart, Mr. Guppy presents himself at the town mansion at about seven o'clock in the evening and requests to see her ladyship. The footman sulkily supposes that the young man must come up into the library.
Mr. Guppy looks into the shade in all directions, discovering everywhere a certain charred little heap of coal or wood. Presently he hears a rustling. Is it-? No, it's no ghost, but fair flesh and blood.
