At the farther end of the Lodge, the floor was raised to the height of a couple of steps; whence the whole place, with the exception of the remotest corner of the angle before-mentioned, could be commanded at a single glance. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. The class laughed, a few putting their hands to their foreheads in a military salute to mock her. He was halfway across the ballroom, where the dancing had ceased for the musicians to take a well-earned rest, when Roding pounced on him. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. " "Mr.
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