And so Misther Wudd lives near the Black Lion, eh?" "He does," replied Thames. He was just getting cross about your being late for dinner—you know his way—when it came. " "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. Nothing at all. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered.
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