Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice. "I shall want nothing more. Her steps slowed. It was a dull, foggy day, and the atmosphere was so thick and heavy, that, at eight o'clock, the curious who arrived near the prison could scarcely discern the tower of St. All these circumstances,—slight in themselves, but powerful in their effect,—touched the heart of the widowed carpenter, and added to his depression. Ms. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. ” “Please tell me why?” she asked.
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