'—'Oh! yes we are,' says he. " While he was thus musing, he fancied he heard the lock tried. Then you won't tell me where he's going?" "I will tell you six months from now. But they been good to me, they have, sir. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. “Thanks, Mister McCloskey. ” “Why did you tell me? I thought—I thought we were going to be friends. . H’m. Hoddy! All her fears fell away. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. ’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle.
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