“You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. ” He released her hand and talked in eager undertones against an auditory background of urgency and distress. Mr. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. ” She peered at him through the semi-blackness. Your maid would not be of the least protection.
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