If he recovers he may not accuse her. "The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly. Are you now satisfied?" "No," interposed Wood, furiously, "I shall never be satisfied till I see you hanged on the highest gibbet at Tyburn. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. This was just what he needed. She remained on guard.
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