"Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. His lawful wife; but nothing more; beyond that she was only an idea, a trust. ’ He added on a teasing note, ‘Though if there’s anything suspicious we can always get the key from Pottiswick. She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. They agreed that they must marry at once, this morning, before the doctor could suspect what was toward. " "The ways of Providence are inscrutable," observed Wood.
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