“Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. “I’ve tried to make words tell it. There was another phrase which sounded something like 'Gin in a blue-serge coat'. Her heartbeat quickened. " Rambling in this way, the matron at length came to a halt, and taking out a key, pointed to a door and said, "This is Mrs. 3. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done. The burden of decision had been transferred. "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse. ‘Come inside at once, child.
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