She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. She cried out in pain, then in pleasure as he thrust himself into her. But on this matter my mind is quite made up. “Second class,” said some one, but first and second were all alike to her. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. CHAPTER XVIII.
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