‘Imagination,’ said the gentleman, soothing her.

‘No imagination,’ replied the girl in a hoarse voice. ‘I’ll swear I saw “coffin” written in every page of the book in large black letters, — aye, and they carried one close to me, in the streets to-night.’

‘There is nothing unusual in that,’ said the gentleman. ‘They have passed me often.’

‘Real ones,’ rejoined the girl. ‘This was not.’

There was something so uncommon in her manner, that the flesh of the concealed listener crept as he heard the girl utter these words, and the blood chilled within him. He had never experienced a greater relief than in hearing the