***** Coconuts grew perpetually. Her hand grasped it firmly, and she pushed herself forward. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. It was the only way to make the monthly bills.
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