To reach the door they had to pass the end of the table, and behind the chair where Mr. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. You think you love this other man! No doubt you do love him. "The poor young man!" she said. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes.
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