Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. She left for good after he fell asleep. "Confusion!" cried he; "there is another boat in our wake. “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs.
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