"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. Every one took him for the millionaire, and he had lost his head about me. Stanley, putting his hands on the table in the manner rather of a barrister than a solicitor, and regarding her balefully through his glasses with quite undisguised animosity, asked, “And may I presume to inquire, then, what you mean to do?—how do you propose to live?” “I shall live,” sobbed Ann Veronica. Wait!" He released himself from his aunt's embrace, ran to the trunk and fetched the old coat. It had been a very long time. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. McClintock does it; and he knows why. “That was a moment of madness,” she said.
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