"Shpeak up, vill you?" cried Abraham, rapping his knuckles against the hatch. " "No," cried the lady, "this room—I recollect—it has a back window. “I love you, Ann Veronica. You have thought it worth while to take some considerable pains to resolve for yourself my sister’s identity. To tell Ruth anything, it would be necessary to tell her everything; and I cannot and you must not. " "Then the sooner I'm off the better," cried Wood; "what's to pay, David?" "Don't affront me, Owen, by asking such a question," returned the landlord; "hadn't you better stop and finish the bottle?" "Not a drop more," replied Wood. ‘Tee-ree-sa.
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