A lucky escape. " CHAPTER XVIII. ” “You do not flatter me,” she laughed. E. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. But, bloodan'-'ouns! man, if ould Nick himself were to hit me a blow, I'd be afther givin' him another. There would be no mercy in this man. I just suppose it isn’t worth the trouble.
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