"See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. " "But I'm a poor man. She is your sister, and God knows I wish her none. What sort of a human being are you, anyhow?" Enschede gazed seaward. "A friend," replied Jonathan, uncocking the pistol, and placing it in his pocket. McClintock, coming from below, saw them and went forward. The eminent painter had handsome, expressive features, an aquiline nose, and a good deal of dignity in his manner. It stunned her.
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