CHAPTER XXXI. A married man!—the kind I've never been able to lure down there! But keep your temper in check. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. She got up and unlocked the door. He walked unsteadily towards the door. Each morning his inquiry was properly answered: the patient was steadily improving, but none could say when he would be strong enough to proceed upon his journey. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. “The real reason why I am out of place here,” she said, “is because I like men. " "Well, Sir," gasped Mrs.
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