"There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. “Do it now. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. I may say that the amount of the annuity I propose to allow you is two hundred a year.
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