" "May be," returned the man gravely. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. John’s father added cheerfully, “So, do you play any violin?” She balked at the stereotype, but admitted, “Yes, I play violin. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. It was the only time she had ever hit him, punched him right in the stomach like one of his favorite Three Stooges episodes.
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