"Enough is as good as a feast, is it not, Mr. Sykes?" he said; and Mr. Sykes assented, and then sat and watched Joe Scott remove the bottle at a sign from Helstone, with a self-satisfied simper on his lips and a regretful glisten in his eye. Moore looked as if he should have liked to fool him to the top of his bent. What would a certain young kinswoman of his have said could she have seen her dear, good, great Robert--her Coriolanus--just now? Would she have acknowledged in that mischievous, sardonic visage the same face to which she had looked up with such love, which had bent over her with such gentleness last night? Was that the man who had spent so quiet an evening with his sister and his cousin--so suave to one, so tender to the other--reading Shakespeare and listening to Chnier?

"Enough is as good as a feast, is it not, Mr. Sykes?" he said; and Mr. Sykes assented regretfully. Moore looked mischievous and sardonic. What would a certain young kinswoman of his have said if she could have seen her dear, good, great Robert just now?
