"He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment. "Not exactly," answered Jonathan, drily. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. All I can say is, it's well meant; and I may add, I'd have made it five minutes ago, if you'd given me the opportunity.
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