But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. What was the wench at? Yet he could not maintain this stand off forever. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. "They will kill me, if they find me, as they would have killed my husband and child. " "But I was intoxicated!" "So was the man you just fought in this room.
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