At last, with some final whisky, Mr.Grey went to bed.
Ann, who was waiting anxiously, eager to get through with the talk she dreaded, went at once into the library.

Penhallow rising threw his cigar into the fire.

She laughed, but not in her usual merry way, and cried, "Do smoke, James, I shall not mind it; I am forever disciplined to any fate.

There is a spittoon in the hall--a spittoon!" The Squire laughed joyously, and kissed her.

"I can wait for my pipe; we can't have any lapse in domestic discipline." Then he added, "I hear that my good Josiah has gone away--I may as well say, run away." "Yes--he has gone, James." She hesitated greatly troubled.
"And you helped him--a runaway slave--you--" He smiled.