"I'm tired of the life I'm leading. ’ Her lips parted, but she did not speak. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. Clearing the few impediments in his way, he soon reached the condemned pew, where it had once been his fate to sit; and extending himself on the seat endeavoured to snatch a moment's repose. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. ” With a murmured word of excuse she glided away, and Courtlaw, who had come with a mission which seemed to him to be one of life or death, was left to listen to the latest art jargon from Chelsea. She saw his finger pull back on the hammer of the gun and shrieked a warning just as Jack launched himself forward and Gosse turned and fired.
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