" "So I perceive," replied Wood. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. This is also the ragged edge of the world, too. " "But I'm used to that, Hoddy," she said, eagerly. He has nothing to fall back upon, no substitute; but a woman always has the mother love. ‘Then it must certainly be Eugénie.
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