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CHAPTER XIV. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. Spurlock was fond of dogs; he was fond of this offspring of many mesalliances; but he never made any attempt to win Rollo, to share him. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. Surely it was a dream. "The key," replied the widow. The next moment, an exclamation was heard in the voice of Thames. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age.
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