She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly. " "O Heavens!" screamed Winifred, while her father lifted up his hands in silent horror. Wood, disdainfully. ’ Gerald frowned. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. . It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct.
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