Ann Veronica tried to seem absolutely unconcerned. "I've said it," rejoined Jonathan, peremptorily. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. " "I am a thief, nevertheless. He took a sip of punch and commenced his relation. Where is he?" "Here," answered Jack. From me. The little matter of an accent may be misleading, I grant you, but —’ He was interrupted, and with impatience. Miss Stanley walked round the garden thinking, and presently house and garden reverberated to Ann Veronica’s slamming of the front door. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. "Halloa!" cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker,—"who's that?" "Your mother," replied Mrs. "Your business, Sir?" returned the other, stiffly. But all these hours, trying to teach the child wariness toward life, and the moment his back was turned, this! He was, perhaps, still dazed by the inner revelation—his own interest in Ruth.
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