The Old Mint. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. “Really, I do not know why I should have doubted it. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. “I think that’s the right name. "I'm glad to hear it, that's all," he added, taking out his snuff-box, his never-failing resource in such emergencies.
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