” “You are foolish,” she declared, with a note of irritability in her tone. “Who can tell?” she said. This is your room. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. “You are the most perfect, the most glorious of created things—tender, frank intellectual, brave, beautiful. Disappointed puppy-love, and all that. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. Her father had determined on a new line. " "I'll excuse it nevertheless," returned the little damsel, affectionately extending her hand to him. His analytical bent saved him many times, though he was not sensitive to this. Sheppard," cried the carpenter's wife bitterly; "and, I repeat, Bedlam's too good for her.
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