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“Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up. Perhaps I am still mad. Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following—Sunday. And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me. It was surely odd that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so vividly. He mumbled an apology and then stopped short. With the broken links of the chain, which served him in lieu of more efficient implements, he commenced operations just above the chimney-piece, and soon contrived to pick a hole in the plaster. You understand me, I’m sure.
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