"Now, Sir, I'll trouble you for your coat. ’” She played “If I Were a Rich Man,” adding syrupy trills and flourishes at every phrase. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. ’ Footsteps sounded just outside, and Captain Roding walked in. We meant to make it dinner and a theatre, but you were not home. She made no attempt to answer her sister’s question. By-the-bye, do you want any money? Sir John’s ideas of pin money are not exactly princely, but I can manage what you want, I dare say.
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