He was caressing an idea. . She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. He did not look up, so he did not know that in her other hand she held a glass of wine. But, perhaps, you'll first accompany me to my dwelling for a moment, that we may arrange our accounts before we start. But threats and entreaties—even promises were ineffectual; and the unlucky captive, after exhausting his powers of persuasion, was compelled to give up the point. It took all my self control not to let my hands wander. Saint Giles's Round-house.
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