What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically. That was Leonardo’s motto. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. Wood. After encountering other dangers, and being twice, compelled to fling himself flat upon his face to avoid slipping from the wet and slimy pathway, he was at length about to emerge from the lock, when, to his inexpressible horror, he found he had lost the child! All the blood in his veins rushed to his heart, and he shook in every limb as he made this discovery. Gosse would have killed me, and perhaps in the fight I might kill him. No one could take the place for anything but what it was, and even Gosse hesitated in the doorway. He drew her away from this thought. She wished her father and aunt would not enjoy their dinner with such quiet determination.
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