" "Allow me to offer you a glass of usquebaugh, my dear," said Kneebone, turning from him, and regarding Edgeworth Bess with a stare so impertinent, that even that not over-delicate young lady summoned up a blush. Don't be afraid, man,—off with it. "For what?" "I had the paper with me. He began munching his water-chestnuts—a small brown radish-shaped vegetable, with the flavour of coconut—that grow along the river brims. Nicholas is dead. Stones and brickbats were showered on all sides, and Mr. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. It was horrible. A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind.
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