" "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. “He is quiet only this minute,” she said to the official. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. He proceeded to the deck, where Ruth and McClintock were waiting for him by the ladder. Now, I'll be getting along. " "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English. “Begin violence, and the woman goes under. ‘I thought, you see, that we might as well enter by the same way our intruder had done. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute.
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