"Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. " But Spurlock put up his guard. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. Since then he has persistently annoyed me. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. ” And she pressed her lips together in white resolution and nodded, and she was manifestly full of that same passion for conflict and selfsacrifice that has given the world martyrs since the beginning of things. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. “It is Rhea’s infant.
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