” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. Wood, meanwhile, had summoned his men-servants, and having armed them with such weapons as could be found, they proceeded to the garden, where the first object they encountered was Thames Darrell, extended on the ground, and weltering in his blood. "You're not hurt I hope, Sir Rowland?" inquired this individual. "Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. ‘You wouldn’t know one end of a pistol from the other. " Sir Rowland moved irresolutely towards the door, but recoiled before a sad spectacle.
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