Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. ” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. ’ The lad Kimble moved swiftly to the door and walked out of the room. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. What a pity! But why? There was no way over this puzzle, nor under it, nor around it: that men should drink, knowing the inevitable payment.
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