What had she so nearly said? She had almost spoken a name—and quickly withdrawn it. “Yes. As Wood obeyed, his foot slipped; and, casting his eyes upon the floor, he perceived it splashed in several places with blood. Here, Peter," he added to a curly-headed lad, who was playing on one of the grassy tombs, "ask your father to step this way. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. ‘And so?’ she asked. " "You're a noble-hearted little fellow, Thames," rejoined Wood, casting a look of pride and affection at his adopted son, whose head he gently patted; "and give promise of a glorious manhood. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Obviously he is still interested.
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