Manning relinquished his cup, and looked meaningly at Ann Veronica. I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. “Her ladyship dined at home,” the man answered. It was obvious that he had waited for her. “Think of that check you endorsed. For some seconds of voluminous thinking they looked at the ring between them, and neither spoke. The worthy carpenter was restored to instant good humour by a glance from his helpmate; and, notwithstanding the infliction he had just endured, he would have quarrelled with any one who had endeavoured to persuade him that he was not the happiest of men, and Mrs. Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street.
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