" "From whom?" vociferated Trenchard. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. Lucy savored the normalcy of the scene. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. “I don’t think I CAN do that,” she said. ‘You are mad,’ Gosse uttered, and only just had time to get himself up from the floor. After a certain amount of manœuvring, however, he was induced to crawl around, and in a few minutes came to stop again before a tall brightly-painted house, which seemed like an oasis of colour and assertive prosperity in a long dingy row. Something in his tone pinched her heart. He seemed to have expected them. Manning called.
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