Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. "Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. You go to your room and ring for your maid. Thanks. Our quarrel's quite over. I call myself a man of the world, a man of many experiences, but I never knew what love meant—until I met your sister. Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following—Sunday.
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