"I do not know how it will go with the third.

The Lord's will be done!" "The Lord's will be done," the squire echoed, solemnly.

"And now, Quatermain, listen--my wife's gone." "Gone!" my father answered.

"Who with ?" "With that foreign cousin of hers.

It seems from a letter she left me that she always cared for him, not for me.