I want to talk to Mr. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. She continued to fan herself. ” “Not yet,” he said. He drew her to him and tipped her chin towards him. Wood—and after him came his daughter. " Glad to make peace on any terms, Mr. “Mr. ‘I thank you. From then on he was Ruth's dog.
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