" Her utterance was here choked by sobs. "And now, Mrs. I’ve loved her for two years, I love her now. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. But I do not love you. Take your pick, Mrs. " Amazed at the boy's assurance, Wood left off boxing his ears for a moment, and, looking at him steadfastly, said in a grave tone, "Jack, Jack, you'll come to be hanged!" "Better be hanged than hen-pecked," retorted the lad with a malicious grin. “Are you sick, Michelle? Maybe you should have stayed home.
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