Wood; "to be sure you are! I wonder how you dare show your face in this house, hussy!" "I thought you sent for me, Ma'am," replied the widow, humbly. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. Ah! she looks this way, and puts her finger to her lips. The vicomte must be well known to those high-born who have gone to England. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. On his appearance, Jack levelled a pistol at his head. A true nun. ‘This is not love, Marthe.
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