It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. We needn’t try and give ourselves airs. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. Montressor’s guests. “I’ve got bad faults. " "It's mine, I'll be sworn," rejoined Wood.
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