’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. She did not answer him, as she did not know what to say. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. " "Away with him!" cried Jonathan. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. " So saying, he advanced towards the window, threw open the sash, and called out in the voice of Thames Darrell, "Who's there?" He was answered by a shot from a pistol. She was perhaps as near tears as ever before in her life.
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