The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. " "You shall first go to Bridewell, you jade!" rejoined Kneebone. Slowly and ruefully she realized why marriage was so idealized among her generations of those before her. .
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