F. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. He removed his cocked hat and came towards her. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. She had slept badly at first in a long chair next to the fire waiting for him to return, but caught on after that.
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