"With all my heart!" replied Wood. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. “There’s another instinct, too,” he went on, “in a state of suppression, unless I’m very much mistaken; a child-expelling instinct. She is a stranger to you. But it is not your name. The villain has enjoyed his security too long. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. The militia were in already.
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