"Well, lad, supposing you read what the editor has to say?" was McClintock's suggestion, when the frolic was over. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. ‘You are an avid reader, I take it. You fell in at once with her quixotic and damnable scheme of foisting her reputation and her follies upon your shoulders whilst she marries a rich man and commences all over again a life of selfish pleasure. He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. " "Ay, but he will. ‘Again?’ Another simple parry. She stole her glances sideways like the rest of the women.
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