"I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled. She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. Now, it was a wilderness of weeds. He was a man tout à fait capable, this Gerald. For heaven’s sake, give him some Madeira or something, Gerald! Anything to calm him down. Waving a white flag, naturally. If you'd read your husband's dying speech, you'd know that he laid his death at Jonathan's door,—and with reason too, as I can testify. " "Won't my life do as well as his?" supplicated the other. A nod was exchanged. The only circumstance which served to awaken a darker feeling in his breast was, that his implacable foe Jonathan Wild had survived the wound inflicted by Blueskin, and was slowly recovering. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him.
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