She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. “You poor little girl!” he cried. The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys,) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs. " "You might have added 'then'," said Miss Spurlock, drily. Only the next of kin. In the struggle her cap fell off. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. “I wonder if there is anything wrong with my manners,” she said.
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