" CHAPTER XX To Spurlock it seemed as if a great iron door had swung in behind him, shutting out the old world. . ’ ‘Tchah! Better a doubtful welcome here than a confounded French convent. This was done, and Austin returned with a crest-fallen look to the table. It had been a very long time. “You have been very kind to me,” she said. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. “DEAR MR. Spurlock mused over the previous night. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. Either Sydney or Mr.
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