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"I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. She pulled away from him, placing her fingers on his lips for a moment. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. ‘You have rifled his papers. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead.
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