“I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. Let us proceed with our tale. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. He looked no longer at his wife. ” She glared at him balefully. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. For a long time neither spoke again. "What do you want with me?" "A word in private," replied the other. ‘I have first some affairs to finish. "We're all damaged—we've all got broken pates," cried a dozen voices. Dolls. " So saying, he violently shut and locked the door.
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