"There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. "In spots you are a thoroughbred; but here's a black mark on your ticket, lad. I can’t but feel it’s an undesirable complication to drag in the Charvills at this point. Ann Veronica was not ready enough to deal with that counter-stroke. “Thank Heaven, they are bringing the hors d’oeuvres. “Ever yours, “ANNABEL. All right, I’m coming. . " "I hope such a thing never will happen again, my dear," observed Wood, mildly, "but, when it does, it will be time to consider what course we ought to pursue. . . You're a queer lad.
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