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“Why, among other things, did I put my knuckles in his neck—deliberately to hurt him?” She tried to sound the humorous note. "What's that?" demanded McClintock. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. Go on and tell me. His sister followed. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. You come with those clear eyes of yours, as valiant as an angel. So I fear there's little chance of any one getting it.
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