“But I am sorry,” she exclaimed. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. 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. "But, I say, that girl is a queer one. " "And you must have risked much to obtain it, my love. Loose the wherry, and stand to your oars—quick—quick!" These commands were promptly obeyed. A nurse was at the other end of the room. “Intolerable idiots!. Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related.
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