” Annabel’s hand stole into his. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. ’ ‘You surprise me. "What?… Oh!… Well, good Lord!" He wrenched loose his head and stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. “You haven’t seen him in three hundred years?” He asked. I don’t care if you never tell me any of your secrets. Arrived beneath an aperture in the broken roof, he was preparing to pass through it, when he observed a little heap of tiles upon the floor, which appeared to have been recently dislodged. The woollen-draper was no despicable trencherman in a general way; but his feats with the knife and fork were child's sport compared with those of Mr.
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