" "I won't reproach you, Jack," said the other, sternly. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. She thought me— filthy. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. " "Oh! certainly," answered Griffin; "certainly. Rituals instead of medicines. " "Bull's eye!" piped O'Higgins. "Don't alarm yourself. .
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