" "Take time to consider of it," replied Wood sulkily, "there's no hurry. Mr. To-morrow I shall come and talk to you again—of other things. A queer game this: he could not move directly as in an ordinary case of manhunt. She was very pale, but she reminded him more at that minute than at any time of “Alcide” as he had first known her. His voice had broken. Imbecile. "Yes, your son, Madam. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. I feel like a fraudulent trustee. ” “For you.
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