” “I heard she was wanted for a murder. Kneebone is coming, my dear," ventured Mr. Wood—and after him came his daughter. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. The idea of anything criminal never entered her thoughts. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened.
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