A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. " "You're a noble-hearted little fellow, Thames," rejoined Wood, casting a look of pride and affection at his adopted son, whose head he gently patted; "and give promise of a glorious manhood. Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. " "That reminds me he's still at large," returned Ireton. "I have not trusted you.
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