Not so Gosse. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. Never had she seemed to him so much like Anna. "I can't say I do," replied Wood. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. The manager stared at the empty doorway for a space, shrugged, and returned to his ledgers. Something seemed awry. However, that’s over and done with. Wood; "to be sure you are! I wonder how you dare show your face in this house, hussy!" "I thought you sent for me, Ma'am," replied the widow, humbly.
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