CHAPTER X. . "I shall want nothing more. "He will kill me," cried Thames. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. "Do not endanger yourself on my account," rejoined his mother. But if his frame was immature, his looks were not so. Ha! ha! ha!" "Jack!" exclaimed Thames, angrily. "No," rejoined Thames, "I won't be treated like a common felon, if I can help it.
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