You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. “Non. ” “And you?” Annabel exclaimed. “You certainly are. He awoke, strangely content. I tell you—never mind the bill. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love.
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