At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits—it would melt a heart of stone to see her. ’ ‘Why should you care?’ demanded Roding, exasperated. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. ” “I don’t care how we meet,” she said.
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