Wood," cried David, pouring out a glass of the spirit, and offering it to the carpenter, "that'll warm the cockles of your heart. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. ” “Well?” “Lunch! I am hungry—tragically hungry. Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door.
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