But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. ” She turned her face to the fire, gripped her hands upon her elbows, and drew her thin shoulders together in a shrug. There was a discreet knocking at the door, and Ramage’s face changed. "Off with you to Newgate!" cried Jack, "and don't let him out till you get inside the Lodge.
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