‘Come, cry a truce. Buck up. " "But, my love," still remonstrated Wood, "you know I'm going to look after the boys——" "After Mrs. A wooden balcony in one of the adjoining houses was thronged with ladies, all of whom appeared to take a lively interest in the scene, and to be full of commiseration for the criminal, not, perhaps, unmixed with admiration of his appearance. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. Why, is the question I would like answered.
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