She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. It was she who had come out from the flat only a few minutes before. 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. "Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. Until now none of her prayers had ever been answered. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. It presented a cleanshaven face with a large Corinthian nose, hair tremendously waving off the forehead and more chin and neck than is good for a man.
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