“You poor little girl!” he cried. Some day I'm going to paint her; but that will be when I've retired. Tell Bess to slip out, and I'll put on her cloak and hood. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. You’re the only person I’ve really given good, straight, unselfish thought to. “I thank you for your advice,” she said. "Oh!—to see you thus!" cried Thames, in an agony of affliction.
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