" "So it seems," observed the woollen-draper, "and for every one else, too. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. McClintock did not exaggerate his ability to read faces. Diane suggested to him that he retire early, and he did so agreeably, halfknowing it to be an order. It was a different world. "My God! will you see your child strangled before your eyes, and not so much as scream for help?" said Wood, staring at the widow with a look of surprise and horror.
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