It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. He is all kindness, and will overlook them for your poor father's sake —for mine. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. ‘You have come to me in place of Gérard? But how is it you will help me?’ ‘That’s all right and tight. He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. Died short, I suppose, and the girls had to shift for themselves. "I was coming to give you intelligence of a comical trick played by this rascal, when I find him here—the last place, I own, where I should have expected to find him. “It’s nothing to what I WILL do.
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