Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street. ‘Not yet, madame. S. " The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. ’ ‘Gérard,’ she said, giving the French version with a soft “g” and not quite managing the “l”. Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse.
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