She was quite unconcerned. She dressed rapidly and left the theatre without a word to any one. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. She wondered occasionally why his mind needed so much distraction. A young man, who had been spending the last hour walking up and down on the opposite side of the way, came quickly over to her. Let me keep you from that man’s clutches. To stumble upon the trail through the agency of a bottle of whisky! Drank queer; so his bottle had rendered him conspicuous. These petals! I’ve been wanting to cry all the evening, cry here on your shoulder for my petals. "I'll place it to your account, Sir Rowland," answered the thief-taker, smiling significantly.
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