They came teeming distressfully through her aching brain: “A man can kick, his skirts don’t tear; A man scores always, everywhere. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. I feel like a fraudulent trustee. I asked you to go. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. "Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. Having secured this,—for he was almost famished,—he said that he had lost a hammer and wished to purchase one. She was dressed for the street very much as her own maid was accustomed to dress, and there was a thick veil attached to her hat. "Remember the devil!" retorted Terence, who had recovered his natural audacity. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. Relief flooded her.
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