" "Of course—of course," returned Wood, hastily; "anything's better than that. Gerald, intent on his trail, ignored it. It was enough. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. ‘No, for you had your own selfish plans already made, that is now seen. And put ‘em in little books for remembrance. ” “And I,” Courtlaw said, “although I have asked before in vain, have come to ask you once more the same thing. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it.
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