‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. She cried out in pain, then in pleasure as he thrust himself into her. “Why not?” He repeated, demanding. He had looked at it before without comprehension. ’ With an unexpected flush of pleasure, he recalled the girl’s antics. He could hardly open the envelope, he trembled so. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life. "Now, Mr. I sha'n't cry any more. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. —I'll give him the edication of a prig,—teach him the use of his forks betimes,—and make him, in the end, as clever a cracksman as his father. ” “You do not understand me at all,” she declared. ’ ‘What?’ squeaked Kimble.
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