"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. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. And, though the villain can't see his orders executed, I've no doubt some one else will. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. “I thought they made knights of actors?” “They may of Hal some day,” said Gwen. ‘Therefore she cannot be the daughter of Suzanne Valade. I would like to talk to you about this—soon. ” His lips tightened, and he frowned with solemn resolution. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast.
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