"That's a nice wholesale sort of a charge," said a passenger behind him, in rather a huffy tone. "You mind your own business," said Revitts sharply. "I wasn't talking to you;" and he spoke in such a fierce way that the man coloured, while Mary leaned forward, and looked imploringly at me, as much as to say, "Pray, pray, don't let him quarrel." "I say it, and I ought to know," said Revitts dictatorially, "that women's a bad lot, and after hearing of that case this morning, I say as every woman afore she gets married ought to go through a reg'lar cross-examination, and produce sittifikits of character, and witnesses to show where she's been, and what she's been a-doing of for say the last seven years. If that was made law, we shouldn't have poor fellows taken in and delooded, and then find out afterwards as it's a case of big-a-mee, like we heerd of this morning. Why, as I was a-saying, Ant'ny, if I'd had that case in hand--eh? Oh, ah, yes, so it is. I'll get down first. I didn't think we was so near." For poor Bill's plans about the bigamy case were brought to an end by the stopping of the omnibus in Piccadilly, and I gave a sigh of relief as we drew up in the bright, busy thoroughfare, after a look at the dark sea of shining lights that lay spread to the right over the Green Park and Westminster. Carriages were passing, the pavement was thronged, and it being a fine night, all looked very bright and cheery after what had been rather a dull ride. Revitts got down, and I was about to follow, offering my hand to poor, sad Mary, when just as my back was turned, Revitts called out to me: "Ant'ny, Ant'ny, look after my wife!" and as I turned sharply, I just caught sight of him turning the corner of the street, and he was gone. CHAPTER FORTY. HALLETT'S NEWS. I was so staggered by this strange behaviour that I did not think of pursuit. Moreover, I was in the act of helping poor Mary to the ladder placed for her to descend, while she, poor thing, gave vent to a cutting sigh, and clung tightly to my hand. As we stood together on the pavement, our eyes met, and there was something so piteous in the poor woman's face, that it roused me to action, and catching her hand, I drew it through my arm. "He has gone to get a glass of ale, Mary," I said cheerfully. "Let's see if we can see him." "No," she said huskily; "he has gone: he has left me for good, Master Antony, and I'm a miserable, wretched woman." "Oh, nonsense," I cried. "Come along. We shall find him." "No," she said, in a decisive way; "he has gone. He's been regretting it ever since this morning." "Don't, pray; don't cry, Mary," I whispered in alarm, for I was afraid of a scene in the streets. "No, my dear; don't you be afraid of that," she said, with a sigh. "I'll try and bear it till we get home; but I won't promise for any longer." "Don't you be foolish, Mary," I said sharply. "He has not left you. He's too fond of you. Let's see if he is in the bar."