His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. Anna was singing as she used to sing. "Poor thing!" muttered he, as the widow departed on her errand, "she's seen better days and better circumstances than she'll ever see again, I'm sure. She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. She did not have the power of men.
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