"There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. They were talking of “Alcide,” as they often did in those days. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. . Given the proper incentive, who could say that he might not likewise go nobly to some fine end? She thrilled. It was at the top of the building, and looked clear over a clustering mass of inferior buildings toward Regent’s Park.
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