We are amiable to one another, but we don’t mix. “To Hell if we don’t change our ways. I hope I haven't given any unintentional offence?" said the widow, again meekly appealing to Wood. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her. ” “I wanted to, John. You simply can't get good oil down there, so I must husband the few drams I carry. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. The mock astonishment of his face immediately became genuine. . She recovered herself, however, with amazing facility. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. Wood, was examined. The storm burst upon them in its fury. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. “But—your people!” she gasped.
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