" "I hope such a thing never will happen again, my dear," observed Wood, mildly, "but, when it does, it will be time to consider what course we ought to pursue. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. ‘Martha was my wet-nurse? But she is unmarried. Of the women felons' rooms nothing has yet been said. "I don't think that's likely. CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. “I’ve been thinking of you all night,” she answered.
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