Wood," replied Jack, calmly. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. ” She said to him. He could not tell by the look of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she would be free. There is nothing but your pride which stands between us. . And to think that man got it all out of the poorest little love-story for a respectable titled lady! Have you read of it?” “Never. He entered the room with his usual deliberation, and looked covertly about him. ” “That’s one of our differences.
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