He waited. "It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets. She looked at him mournfully. It’s that has always made me—SHE, you know, was drawn into a set—didn’t discriminate Private theatricals. Have you not tired of sadness and pain?” 81 She thought she could hear tears in his voice but would not look at him. Wood's present position, and subsequent proceedings fully intelligible, it may be necessary to give some notion of the shape and structure of the platform on which he had taken refuge.
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