Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him. “I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg. I proceeded to Manchester, to investigate the matter further, and when there ascertained, beyond a doubt, that you were the eldest daughter of Sir Montacute Trenchard. “You don’t waste any time. I overheard what Mr.
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