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. "I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. 1. He brightened as she took off her hood. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. “I think that it is only an idea. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. "I assure you, Sir, when I left him an hour ago, it was locked. An ordinary type, of course—” Mrs. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. And ever after it struck him that her backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special significance. The body of Sir Rowland was then laid on the large table. But woe to those who disregard them! Of course, basically it is all wrong; and sometimes God must laugh at our ideas of rectitude. .
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