And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. The manager twisted his moustache. Come in! Come in, do. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard.
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