” “Excuse me,” Mr. ‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do. Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. She began to think persistently of Capes, and it seemed to her now that for some weeks at least she must have been thinking persistently of him unawares. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. Goodbye. He listened.
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