He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips. “He is one of our guests—perhaps I should say boarders here, but he seldom returns before dinner-time. ‘I will not, if you will assure me that an imbecile is a better marriage prospect than a starving pig. '" "Slave?" echoed Jack. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it.
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