‘That’s better,’ said Gerald, and let her go. . Still, I'm glad she didn't accept my invitation to join us. She may have any number of wasting diseases, but they cannot survive in our bodies. She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam. His glasses were gone.
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