" "It wasn't the fumes of whisky that toppled him out of his chair. ” She slipped it on her finger, and added, in a voice she tried to make matter-of-fact: “It was given to me last week. ‘She would not tell me. But supposing he is? Supposing he made but one misstep? Your island would be a haven of security. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. You promise me you’ll never grow old, you hear?” “I promise. “Why don’t you?” “Well, it might mean rather a row. "And now," cried Jack, leaping up, "for an achievement, compared with which all I have yet done shall be as nothing!" CHAPTER XVII.
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