Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. She wondered occasionally why his mind needed so much distraction. Prepared as he was for a dreadful shock, and with his nerves strung to endure it, Jack absolutely recoiled before the appalling object that met his gaze. He was all alone, like herself. " "Then the sooner I'm off the better," cried Wood; "what's to pay, David?" "Don't affront me, Owen, by asking such a question," returned the landlord; "hadn't you better stop and finish the bottle?" "Not a drop more," replied Wood. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. Then fury claimed her and she could no longer pretend.
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