"There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. One went in for painting, kept straight and married old Ferringhall a week or so ago—the Lord help her. ’ ‘Aha, you have found something out. His lawful wife; but nothing more; beyond that she was only an idea, a trust. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. “Well?” she said. Wood. Men had tried that before, but never until now had they been quick enough. "Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup. Wood could give him no further information respecting Sir Rowland Trenchard than what he had obtained from Kneebone; but begged him to defer the further consideration of the line of conduct he meant to pursue until the morrow, when he hoped to have a plan to lay before him, of which he would approve.
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