An enormous poster almost covered one side of the wall—the poster. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. I know all. The note-passer lagged behind with her. Her name was Rhea. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps.
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