Wood," she continued, in an authoritative tone, seeing her husband ready to depart, "one word before you set out. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. He hated himself a little for it. Mother and Son. Sepulchre's bell is for ever ringing in my ears—oh!" "If that's the case," observed Wood, "I'm surprised you should like to have such a frightful picture constantly in view as that over the chimney-piece. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. I am sure. ’ Melusine sat slowly down again, looking him over thoughtfully. “You’ve interested me enormously.
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