"There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. ‘I can answer that. It always comes out sooner or later. It's a thousand pities to hang so pretty a fellow. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. Teacher. In the end he broke his own heart along with your mother's. "That's your hunting ground," said the doctor. If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket.
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