Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. "You will be wanting your broth, Hoddy," she said.
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