Brutes! They are the brute still with us! Science some day may teach us a way to do without them. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. “What are you doing?” he asked.
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