And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. "And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. " "I'll give you something better worth keeping," she answered, detaching the ornament from her neck, and presenting it to him; "this contains a lock of my hair, and may remind you sometimes of your little sister. " "As you will," said Jonathan, seating himself. ” He shook his head, and his eyes and the mouth under the black mustache wrinkled with his smile.
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