“It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. ’ ‘That’s right,’ agreed the militiaman, coming forward to stand before her. "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. ” “Not now. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. Miss Stanley, it was manifest, had given him Ann Veronica’s address. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. If he wants you, let him get you.
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