" "Hoddy," she repeated. ” She interrupted as Ann Veronica was about to speak again, with a bright contagious hopefulness. “Mr. They had their little dreams about her. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. Melusine was silent, revolving this outcome in her mind as she stared at Roding, who was frowning at her in a puzzled way. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. "No; I don't think I'd laugh.
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