The Roof and the Window V. “You haven’t seen him in three hundred years?” He asked. The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit. "Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. Both advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features of Rowland. “How will you live?” she appealed. Here you only waste your time. She had worn a long skirt that morning, and a roomier sweater that was slightly easier to handle than Shari’s low cut numbers.
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