“Not a bit of it. Wood," said she, in the deep, hoarse accents of consumption; "and may God Almighty bless and reward you for your kindness! You were always the best of masters to my poor husband; and now you've proved the best of friends to his widow and orphan boy. It was you! It was exactly you, but it was probably the photo they thought it was your mother! I dug it up after combing the Reader’s Guide To Periodical Literature for like, six hours straight. ‘You didn’t understand it any better than I. Gravely he placed them in his aunt's hand. " During this touching interview, a change had come over Sir Rowland, and he half repented of what he had done. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then.
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