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"It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. Sure, I lose one occasionally—if he stays in New York. I like you very much, I haven’t known you enough to love you, no matter how worthy you are of love. I am already too much flattered that you should have given me your confidence. That he’s come here at all shows he’ll stop at nothing.
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