"I understand," replied Rowland. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. But I can tell you who'll have the pleasure of hanging your father's son; and that's a person not a hundred miles distant from you at this moment—ha! ha!" As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish features, and a long red beard. He refused his food,—and even when better provisions were offered him, rejected them. But she did not speak. Mr. Clientèle was of the most transitory character.
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