You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. It did not take a mind reader to glean that she had suddenly gained the boy’s obsessive attention.
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