"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. Denis. “But if my manner tells! I cannot help it if that shows. " "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. ’ He screamed at me through the rope and tape, it was no use. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more.
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