" "I declare I don't know what to do," said Wood, burned by conflicting emotions. " "Och! if he's a friend o' yours, my dear joy, there's no more to be said; and right sorry am I, I struck him. Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. ’ ‘Even that he is, one must be practical. Their very furniture had mysteriously a high-browed quality, and Mr. S. People always rejoice at the misfortunes of others—never at their own! The droll dogs! how they must have enjoyed it!—ha! ha!" "I dare say they did. I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. ’ ‘How can I have more? You have taken my pistol. To perdition with them all. . .
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