What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. A bad one in a rough-and-tumble; all the water-front tricks. I love my husband. ” “Who cooked it all?” He asked. ” “Yes. I want him immediately, so you can send Frith with my phaeton if you like. Ennison,” she said. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. "After him," cried Wild; "he mustn't escape.
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