" "Is the sloop ready to sail?" asked Wild, without noticing the skipper's remark. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand. Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. A couple of gilt straight-backed chairs only. ’ He glanced at the portrait behind her. All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion.
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