Already she had sent him twenty pounds, and never written to explain to him why it was she had not sent it back sharply directly he returned it. " "More blood! more blood!" cried Trenchard, passing his hand with agony across his brow. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. For although I must confess it reads very much like an application or a testimonial or some such thing as that, I can assure you I am writing this in fear and trembling with a sinking heart. Earles.
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