"She considers her future blasted beyond hope. But with returning breath came returning vociferations; and the carpenter, with a faint hope of lessening the clamour by change of scene, took up his lantern, opened the door, and walked out. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. Very well, I give up. Then Mr.
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