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Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. "Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone of one who admits he has been in the wrong; "your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. She leaned over and kissed his cheek innocently. His mother's scream seemed again to ring in his ears, and he was so deeply affected that, fearful of exciting attention, he was about to quit the sacred edifice, when he was stopped by the entrance of Thames, who looked pale as death, with Winifred leaning on his arm. “And this is Mr. ” “It is hard to be distant from your own mother. “I will have your true reason. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat.
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