" "Then this is not my child?" exclaimed she, with increased astonishment. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. He knocked his pipe on the teak rail. But he did not follow on with the thought. Go off and live together—until we can marry. “You know—,” said Mr. Wood," said the lady bridling up, "my request may, perhaps, have some weight with you. She elected to go to prison. Lucy stared out to the busy streets beyond. In the middle there was a gate. She would not forgive me. " CHAPTER XIV.
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