“I do not blame him. and Mrs. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. ” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood. ‘Oh, I do love a flatterer. I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard.
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