"The Crown and Miter will serve our turn," was the curt reply of the viscount.
Claudia looked up in surprise at the brusqueness of his answer, and then ventured the opinion:
"It is a first-class hotel, of course?"
"Humph!" answered his lordship.
They left the respectable-looking street through which they were driving and turned into a narrow by-street and drove through a perfect labyrinth of narrow lanes and alleys, made hideous by dilapidated and dirty buildings and ragged and filthy people, until at last they reached a dark, dingy-looking inn, whose creaking sign bore in faded letters: "The Crown and Miter."
"It is not here that you are taking me, Lord Vincent?" exclaimed Claudia in surprise and displeasure, as her eyes fell upon this house and sign.
"It certainly is, Lady Vincent," replied his lordship, with cool civility, as he handed her out of the cab.
"Why this—this is worse than the tavern you took me to in New York.
I never was in such a house before in all my life."
"It will have all the attractions of novelty, then."
"Lord Vincent, I do beg that you will not take me into this squalid place," she said shrinking back.