"Take it," cried Wood, holding the infant towards her; "take it, and fly. You know, I’ve done no work at all this afternoon. "The men. It's big, thanks to you. “No,” said her brother, conclusively, “it’s not for a parent to go on persuading a child. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. I could make away with him at once, as you are about to make away with your nephew, Sir Rowland,—but that wouldn't serve my turn. She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. But he knew.
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