" "I liked that, too," she replied; "but it wasn't that I had in mind. ” “You want my body? It’s yours for the taking. Smith," observed Wood. Under the circumstances you must permit me to be the best judge of the identity of the young lady who did me the honour, as an old family friend, of dining with me. The likelihood is that I shan’t see the wench again. ” “Right!” he answered. He had conveyed it to her, not verbally, but by means of a letter, which seemed to her a singularly ignoble method of prohibition. ‘You knew her well, Miss Mary?’ Mrs Ibstock turned at the window. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. .
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