" "JONATHAN WILD promises well," observed the Master, after a pause: "he'll become a great man. " Thames was about to reply, but a glance from Wood checked him. “He’s got good taste, you know. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. Opening the door, he found it littered with straw, on which he threw himself, and instantly fell asleep. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. Bring me clothing, I beg of you.
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