‘You do not dare look in my clothes. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. I think a wife a needless incumbrance, and mean to die a bachelor. She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. "Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. “It is too late for visitors,” she remarked. “Is it your maid?” he asked. “I have had a trying evening and I need rest. ” “Lucy Albert, sir. I meant to give him a drubbing.
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