He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. It was his particular hobby, and the leisure he had to apply to it had given him a remarkable appraising eye. "Old Morgan the trader," she explained, "used to save me Tit-Bits. Only the next of kin. He then arose, and, taking a few turns in the chamber, stopped suddenly before her. Why did he take me?’ Martha’s damp eyes were puzzled.
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