“You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. “This is my way back to my side of the Park,” she said. She is no longer mine; she is yours. Your family has not sullied itself by dabbling in it, at least not 173 from what I know, so now is not the time to begin. ’ ‘Valade?’ ‘Aye, sir. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. In this state, it will be easy to draw him into a snare.
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