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"He sails to-morrow morning in the very vessel by which I start," replied Jack. That's a queer yarn. On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet; a notion no sooner conceived than executed. Save my seat. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. '—'Pretty well,' says I; 'you're not badly off at the Friars, for that matter. " "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. He understood now that it was a part of her inheritance. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you.
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