“But, dear, think! He is your father. . I'm about to ring for supper. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. ” Ann Veronica turned her back on the Michaelmas daisies, and faced toward the house with an air of a duty completed. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin.
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