"Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone of one who admits he has been in the wrong; "your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. “Your brother has gone?” she asked Sydney, between the courses. Wood," cried David, pouring out a glass of the spirit, and offering it to the carpenter, "that'll warm the cockles of your heart. The lad looked alarmed. Sheppard, hastily; "is that the name?" "Ay, ay, now I look again it is Trenchard. He winced from the wasp-like sting. ” He was arrested for a moment by an indistinct picture of Veronica reading this last sentence.
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