“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. You cannot depart hence. ‘It is nothing at all of the kind. I wanted to, that day in the Zoo. Pah!’ She flounced about and, crossing to the bed, plonked down on it, pointedly averting her face and resting the large pistol in her lap. " Her utterance was here choked by sobs. I can keep you. " "Death and the devil! what a cursed interruption!" cried Jack, impatiently. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips.
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