“Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly. He looked the boy over with interest. "What did you say to him?" inquired Jonathan, suspiciously. ” She lifted steadfast eyes to him. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. Her aunt did not object to capital punishment or war, or the industrial system or casual wards, or flogging of criminals or the Congo Free State, because none of these things really got hold of her imagination; but she did object, she did not like, she could not bear to think of people not having and enjoying their meals. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. It was not quite the search I intended,’ he said with a touch of selfmockery as he released her, ‘but success comes in all sorts of unexpected ways. I am very, very sorry, but you must listen to me.
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