The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. Not a bad man as men go, but he would sell whisky and gin. To his great joy he found a small garret-door in the roof of the opposite house open. His tone was rough, almost threatening. "It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets. ” “I wish,” said Ann Veronica, with sudden anger, “that you could know what it is to live in a pit!” She stood up as she spoke, and put down her cup beside Miss Garvice’s. ‘Me and the butler didn’t see eye to eye.
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