The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. "Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs. ‘If you had met her, you’d understand. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. “Women are mocked,” she said. . . "Poor thing!" muttered he, as the widow departed on her errand, "she's seen better days and better circumstances than she'll ever see again, I'm sure. “Oh. What is the use of it? I do not wish to marry you.
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