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" "Zounds!" exclaimed Wood; "it's my old master-key. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. Lovers' confidences should be respected. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. "You must take it to Sir Rowland Trenchard's in Southampton Fields. Now, I know you can restore him to his rights, if you choose. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly.
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