Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. She leaned a little towards him. Wood had the advantage of her husband in point of years, being on the sunny side of forty,—a period pronounced by competent judges to be the most fascinating, and, at the same time, most critical epoch of woman's existence,—whereas, he was on the shady side of fifty,—a term of life not generally conceived to have any special recommendation in female eyes. Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. But we must not anticipate the course of events. Bribble’s rendering of the service —he had the sort of voice that brings out things—and was still teeming with ideas about it when finally a wild outburst from the organ made it clear that, whatever snivelling there might be down in the chancel, that excellent wind instrument was, in its Mendelssohnian way, as glad as ever it could be. “I am not dependent upon any one. I always fall on my feet, you know. "Not a syllable," replied Wild. Looking sullen, he released the handle and sat back.
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