A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. ‘No, Melusine. 1. But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures. Remember ——” Annabel clutched her sister’s arm. I do not love any one. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested. Then her fingers moved. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him.
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