CHAPTER XX. I overlooked the mechanical imperfections of your work, the utter lack of finish, the crudeness of your drawing. Your first treatment of a subject is always correct, always suggestive. Not many years ago, two men, employed on this duty, quarrelled during the night, and in the morning their bodies were found stretched upon the pavement of the yard beneath. "To-morrow night!" said Spurlock, in a wondering whisper. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams. “Lady Ferringhall, sir. He took the first step toward the stairs, and met the restraining hand of McClintock. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. The villagers were thronging to church. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them. “What do you mean?” she asked. This is no place for me. " "She has suffered enough for you," said Wood.
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