In concealing himself behind the timber, Mr. You only mean a secret for a little time?” “Just for a little time,” she said; “yes. Spurlock slumped in his chair, weak and empty. “Me and my bright ideas. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. " "She cannot stay here," the manager declared. " "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. Suffer me to precede you. She had something of the feeling a Hindoo must experience who has been into surroundings or touched something that offends his caste. .
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