Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. He gave you a poison. . She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart. At half after five that afternoon the doctor and his friend McClintock entered the office of the Victoria. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. I understand. "I am twenty," said the girl.
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