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ToC As Jack opened the gate, and crossed the little garden, which exhibited in every part the neatness and attention of its owner, he almost trembled at the idea of further disturbing her peace of mind. No police officers or lurking storms were anywhere in sight. " "Well," replied her son; "and you spurn the proposal. Figg," said Jack. Wood fared still worse. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. It’s made up of things as small as the diameter of hairs and big as life and death. I don’t understand the workings of a gentleman’s mind. ” “They’ll find out.
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