“John’s here. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. "Whatever your intelligence may be I will strive to bear it. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. She held out her hand frankly. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill.
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