" Thames was about to reply, but a glance from Wood checked him. "I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. “Come this way,” he said. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. She lost it in the Mint. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. Three more people came to meet them at the door. He seated himself before it.
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