Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. The jealous burn at his eyes subsided and his finger came up. " "It is strange," replied Winifred, artlessly. "Always plenty to spare. That is my way, my dear. Wild in my presence! He's the right-hand of the community! We could do nothing without him!" "We!" repeated Wood, significantly. “What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. What was the matter with Spurlock that was to keep him in bed three or four weeks? He would dig that out of the hotel manager. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall.
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