"Beg pardon, Sir Rowland," said the attendant, "but there's a boy from Mr. Wood; "I'll not bear it. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. Gerald pressed against the wall, and signalled Roding to go to the other side of the door. “You see, her sister is married to Ferringhall, isn’t she? and she herself must be drawing no end of a good screw here. ” He took up his hat. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night.
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