The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. "I'll tote the odiousness outside. " "Be pacified, sweet soul," said Wood, looking meaningly at Thames; "you shall go, and I will accompany you. The next few hours will tell. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. Nobody can trust you.
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