" "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. Certainly not a gentlewoman. “You are the type that I want to marry someday, you’ve got a beautiful body, such pretty eyes. He wanted to know what the joke against him was—if any. "You depart for Lancashire to-morrow. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. “It couldn’t be. ‘Don’t put me at the necessity of marrying the abominable little wretch. The booming voice and the energetic movements spoke plainly of hurry. We’re going in. If she has no children, she goes on loving her husband; but he is no longer a man but a child.
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