Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will come pouring back over me. ‘Parbleu, the house, is it broken in the least? I do not think so. 1. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. It wasn’t. ” She replied. The young man opposite was straining his ears to listen to their conversation. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. "It's better," observed Sheppard, meaningly. Mr. Wood, reproachfully, as they returned to the parlour.
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