Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. ‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready. You have watched all the uncouth creations of my brain come sprawling out upon the canvas, and besides, we have been companions. B. ’ Gerald capitulated. Thank him, not me, man. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. Mac would have some new yarns to spin and a fresh turn-over to his celebrated liver. . Let me lend you some money. Austin," continued the tapstress; "he's only going on an errand.
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