" "Silly love stories?" "No; love wasn't the theme. " "Excuse me, Madam," replied the carpenter, turning his back upon her, and sinking into a chair: "Thames, my love, bring me my spectacles. Better come another morning. Jonathan Wild. Wood," said she, in the deep, hoarse accents of consumption; "and may God Almighty bless and reward you for your kindness! You were always the best of masters to my poor husband; and now you've proved the best of friends to his widow and orphan boy. It isn’t illusions—for us. " "Possibly not," replied Thames, in some confusion; "but I am not at liberty to speak. What’s your name?” He asked in return.
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