" "Ah!" shrieked Lady Trafford. He will not help them—and I told Emile so—and thus he sends them to my other grandpére, even that he knows he is dead. They would be partners only in loneliness. A discreet husband would leave the dispensation of his bounty, where women are concerned, to his wife. "Mr. E. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. "Where did you learn the song I heard just now?" he demanded, in an authoritative tone. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. "But never mind who, or what I am. " "I say, Kneebone," rejoined Blueskin, as he washed down an immense mouthful with another bumper, "do you recollect how nearly Mr. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked.
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