"May I ask whether you made any further inquiries into the mysterious affair about which we were speaking just now?" observed Jackson, turning to the carpenter. Nothing more forlorn could be conceived. The entrance was concealed between two huge boulders within a clump of trees, and was now so overgrown that no one who did not know of its existence could ever hope to find it. Unwillingly he drew a little nearer, and became one of the group of loiterers about the entrance. I'm speaking of virtuous women—of WIVES, Madam. “You shall go,” he declared. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. Every care had been taken of it, as well as of himself, by the humane inmates of the house in which he had sought shelter. “If I was the world I think I should have put down a crimson carpet, and asked you to say what you wanted, and generally walk over me. "If you thought that, why did you give me this job?"—his voice faint and thick.
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