"You show more consideration to the feelings of a hempen widow, than there is any need to show. As he entered the shop, a tall portly personage advanced to meet him, whom he at once recognised as the present proprietor. I daresay that is one of the names of the nuns in your convent. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. Darrell. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression.
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