"Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. A siphon and a whisky bottle stood before him. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. It towered up high above the level of the pass, thousands of feet, still, shining, and white, and below, thousands of feet below, was a floor of little woolly clouds. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete. He cannot. "Then I presume you've not been arrested?" "I have not," answered Wood firmly. You can tell me the rest another time. ’ ‘Gad, but she’s a beauty,’ gasped Hilary, and slammed his sword back in its scabbard. " "So have we all. ‘That is imbecile. Smith decidedly the plainest of the two.
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