E. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. Who could guarantee a safer existence outside Florence? That Sebastian seemed to have a weird immunity to the Pestilence was a trait that went unquestioned, unanswered. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. “This is what comes of being a young woman up to date. ” “You disappoint me,” she said wearily. . "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse.
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