“When are you going away?” He asked. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. She hated the manor. “Your brother has gone?” she asked Sydney, between the courses. He stood up and she ushered him out of the small room. ‘I knew it. I was in hopes you'd be content with my hat and wig. Wood, now more buxom and more gorgeously arrayed than ever,—as well as a young and beautiful female, in whom he was at no loss to recognise the carpenter's daughter. I am not French in the least. Lives by his wits and gambling. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard. ‘You are an avid reader, I take it. But, when I look upon his innocent face, and see how like he is to his father,—when I think of that father's shameful ending, and recollect how free from guilt he once was,—at such times, Mr.
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