At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. But David Courtlaw has been here. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. Maggot; "Jack will hear you. "Can't you speak?" "I don't choose," replied Thames, sturdily; "and your brutality shan't make me. You must live for me.
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