"What ho!" he cried slapping Smith, who had fallen asleep with the brandybottle in his grasp, upon the shoulder. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. ‘A devil is just what you are. The other was to go into business—into a photographer’s reception-room, for example, or a costumer’s or hat-shop. Probably a sick man's whim. ” “Your ideas of fairness—” he remarked, and discontinued that sentence. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. ‘Never would he have gone to England. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. ” “I wonder how he treated Gwen. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again.
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