The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. Lucy slipped upstairs silently. "'Odd's! bodikins!" cried Jack, rubbing his cheek, "I'm in luck to-day. Others are smart but fall prey to emotional damage, the female lunar instinct of cunning that goes awry. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence.
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