I'm no mollycoddle. She would have been amazed if John was even aware of any one of the incidents. ‘Adieu, imbecile,’ she threw at him gleefully. Let me lend you some money. She could stow away, go to a place where there were no people to eat and end her life. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. She required no instructions from books; her wit and beauty were her own.
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