Chapter XXIX MONTAGUE HILL PLAYS THE GAME The man opened his eyes and looked curiously about him. But, whether she likes it or not, I aim to be on hand to get her out of it. ” “What?” “That’s the devil of it!” “Devil of what?. ” The talk was animated, and remained always brilliant in form even when it ceased to be brilliant in substance. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. YOU did. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. " "Enough," returned Jackson, extending his hand; "and if I've expressed myself warmly, I'm sorry for it likewise. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. "What's all this?" exclaimed Wood in amazement. All the best novels have been written by women, and yet see how men sneer at the lady novelist still! There’s only one way to get on for a woman, and that is to please men. Smith," observed Wood. "If I were your father, young gentleman," returned Jackson, enraged at the interruption, "I'd teach you not to speak till you were spoken to.
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